


The Lost One

by abstract007



Category: Mahabharata - Vyasa, महाभारत | Mahabharat (TV 2013), सूर्यपुत्र कर्ण | Suryaputra Karn (TV)
Genre: Anga - Freeform, Gen, Hastinapur, Magadha, Vanga
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-05-08 02:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 48,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5480264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abstract007/pseuds/abstract007
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>hey y'all,</p>
<p>thanks for being so patient over the last 2 months. hopefully i'll be able to put in more of this in a timely fashion.</p>
<p>enjoy!</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. The Rising

It was the hunger that awoke me first. The thirst was bad, but the knowing hunger deep in my belly was worse. As I rose from my sleep in the banyan’s shade, I tried making sense of my surroundings. I slowly opened my eyes, adjusting to the shimmers of light that broke through the tree’s canopy. Reaching for a trunk for support, I raised himself to dust off the leaves that fell on me through the night. The cotton robe that protected me from the elements was threadbare but sufficient. Last night’s dew was still falling on my face from the morning breeze. My meager belongings were bundled up in a fold of a satchel I had fashioned from a torn piece of my robe. I reached for a half-eaten apple among the few precious possessions that I had accumulated over the last few days and gnawed at it with a ferocity that only served to heighten the growls from my stomach.

I looked around for the others who took refuge in the enormous tree’s shelter. They were busy in their morning rituals. A river flowed nearby and mendicants were offering their prayers to the Sun God before setting out to nearby settlements for alms.

Begging for alms. Something about it felt wrong. The idea of asking for food, clothing or even shelter seemed like an alien concept to me. A few days ago, I had resisted in my pride but ultimately, hunger had won over and I held out my hands to the traders and passersby for alms. The apple was gone in an instant, the frenzy of my appetite clamoring for more. There was a mango orchard nearby and a temple that gave out food to the needy. Perhaps I could try my luck there today as I imagined the juicy mangoes and the ample offerings within my grasp.

“Who are you?”

The question brought me out of my reverie. I saw a priest standing a few feet from me. The man was slightly taller, with a thick frame and bound beard. His hair was tied in a knot with saffron markings of his priestly order on his forehead. He too wore a simple robe but orange in color. A wooden necklace was the only adornment he had. He looked at me with a mix of suspicion and curiosity.

Who am I? Now, that was a question he could kill to answer. It was a question that was at the core of my thoughts for weeks.

_Weeks_

The farthest I could think back to was mere weeks when I was found alone, running in a storm, by some travellers. Beyond that, life was a blur. Any attempt I made to concentrate and recall was met a splitting headache that left me comatose for hours. All I could remember were flashbacks; some of a shining man, some of a ghostly woman singing. Her humming was the only memory that eased the pain.

“I am Ruksh”, I answered with the name given to me by the travelers who had found me. The first few days in their care had been a horror for them than me. I could not recall how but I was found on a roadside at the borders of Kalinga under a tree in a rainstorm, burning with fever. I was a like a wild animal, or so I was told by my rescuers, clawing at anything and everything around me. They had been patient in feeding and clothing me.

“That is your name? ‘Wild thing’?”, asked the priest with a mirth.

I nodded, still numb to the humor on the priest’s face. The name was as good as the one I could not remember. It was certainly better than “Half naked stranger”. The surprise was when he knew what the name actually meant. My travelling companions were dumbfounded when I started speaking to them in what they called the language of the priests and the highborn. They had taken it as a sign of my Brahmin origins with some guesses of a mental impairment. They told me that I would be well taken care of before giving me up to the sanctuary of the first temple they could find.

The priest strode forward, leaning to one side with a water pot in his grasp. “An odd name. Well, I am Neel. I serve my master at the temple. I have been coming here for ages to fetch water for the temple. Never have I seen you before. Who are you?”

“I don’t know, sir. The people who left me here said something about a Brahmin order but I am not sure”, I answered.

The priest leaned forward until his face was only a hair’s breadth away from my own. Then, suddenly, he jerked back and nodded. “I believe you. But you are no Brahmin, I am sure of that. A true Brahmin can forget everything but never to offer his morning prayers before partaking in even a drop of water.”

I looked to the river, with the rising sun in the horizon. Whatever the reason, I could feel that the Sun was a comforting presence. So, I bowed and folded my hands to say a quick prayer. I had listened to the priests’ daily prayers at the riverbank but something else came out of my mouth. The prayer was for strength and courage, for the calm center of battle and his actions to uphold my honor. The words seemed to form without thought, and without the pain that came with anything that involved thinking these days.

Neel was incredulous, backing away from me at a slow pace. “What was that? What did you just say?!”

His surprise was more of a surprise to me. I lunged to catch the water pot that practically fell from Neel’s arms as he stumbled back to get away from me.

Slowly, Neel recomposed himself, “You really do not realize what you just said, did you? That was not a prayer of a monk. It is a prayer of a soldier…a Kshatriya.”


	2. The Cow and The Cat

A Kshatriya...whatever that was, it meant fear for this Neel. It was some time before he fully regained his composure. He grabbed me by the arm and told me to follow him to the temple.

“My master will know what to do. It is a good thing I found you. The penalty for imposter Brahmins is severe.”

I grudgingly looked back to the banyan tree. The mention of penalty did not leave me with much choice. Either I could follow this monk or stay here and risk some other Brahmin reporting me. I had a feeling I would never again sit beneath its serene shade. That tree had given me shelter; a place to call home when nothing in life made sense. Whatever my lot in life, I had found a calm there that was unlike any.

As we strode up the dirt path from the river, Neel kept asking questions about my past while putting his own suppositions forward. It was beginning to annoy him more than me when I said I could not answer almost any of his questions.

“You say those merchants found you on the borders of Kalinga? Which border? Northern or Western? Perhaps you cannot remember from some battle injury. You do not appear to have a battle scar anywhere on your head. I really should have recognized you sooner.”

This brought up my curiosity, “How so? Why do you think I look like a Kshatriya? I have the robes of a monk. I beg like a monk. Why would I be any different?”

Neel laughed as he changed the water pot to his other hand, “Oh no! Nothing like that on the outside. I meant your demeanor was unlike a monk’s. Well, the prayer rituals was the first sign. But most mendicants do not hesitate like you do before asking for alms. Now that you mention it, most monks are not as well built as you either. If I had to guess, I would say you were a powerful mace-man at your peak. A few good meals and you should regain those muscles quickly. Also, it was the way you were wary of your surroundings, always looking around, almost like a cat. Monks are more like cows I suppose.”

That comparison brought a laugh to my face, easing the wariness among us. As we neared the edge of the village, a wooden palisade wall appeared at its boundaries. Villagers bumped into them shouting their greetings before hurrying off to their work. The temple itself was a modest one with some old flowers hanging in decoration from outside. It was dedicated to Lord Shiva and there was a throng of people waiting outside to offer their prayers ahead of a plump old priest.

“There you are, Neel. What took you so long? I needed that water ages ago for the morning rituals”, said the man. He grabbed the water pot from Neel’s arms and proceeded to pour it on the Lingam with flowers while chanting hymns. The prayers took the better part of the morning and the priest called on Neel to assist him. I thought it best to find a spot in the audience and wait to be presented to this man, who undoubtedly was Neel’s master and the head priest of this temple.

As the last of the worshippers left, Neel asked me to come forth as he followed his master to his private sanctum outside the temple. The room was more of a cowshed than sanctum. Yet, both master and student treated it like a holy retreat. The sanctum was more of a small dwelling made of thatch and wood. The courtyard was where the master’s cows were kept along with what seemed to be a kitchen area from the utensils lying around. Rows of earthen jars lined the walls along with scrolls piled in neat rows on a wooden shelf running the entire length of the house. The master may have seemed well off from his rotund appearance but his home was very austere in its simplicity. It showed that both master and student were there for the temple and the village, not the other way around.

“So who have brought before me today, Neel?” said the Master, as he sat down on the floor behind a wooden desk. Neel sat before him and asked me to do the same.

“I found him by the river, master. He dresses like a Brahmin monk but I suspect he is not. I did not want to turn him over to the King’s men before having a word with you first”

_King’s men? Turn me over?!_

The last part brought an uneasiness to my mind and I felt a sense of betrayal from my new friend. Life may not have been royal under that tree but at least I was not in the danger of being thrown in the dungeons. Now, my fate was lying between two strangers who he had just met a few hours ago. I knew enough not to harm someone from a temple. He had heard enough threats of bhramhatya to know that taking the life of someone from the priestly order was something really abhorrent. I started looking around for something to something to cause a distraction big enough to give me time to run. The earthen pots could be thrown in the fire in the corner to make a big enough smoke cover.

The master listened to Neel’s recollections but kept his steely gaze on me. Even his smile seemed sinister, like that of a snake before it bared its fangs for a kill. A few moments later, he asked, “So, Ruksh. Is that really your name? Well, no matter, let me see your hands. A man’s mind may betray him but his hands have their entire fate written on them.”

He motioned for me to extend his hands and lay them in his own. I was still wary of these two men and I pretended to adjust the folds of my robe to buy some time.

As if sensing my fear, he reassured me, “You are safe here, stranger. It is not our custom to turn away those in need. Lord Shiva took you in his shelter at the moment Neel brought you here. The King’s men will not violate the sanctuary of this temple and neither will I. You can rest easy.”

They were brave words and I could tell that priest meant every word with conviction. Complying slowly, I laid my palms in the master’s hands as he repeated some of the questions that Neel had asked me before. This time, the master asked me to grab onto his fingers and try to crush them. His questioning was thorough; from my past to body’s functions, the master did not leave a stone unturned. I might have been reassured that the master clearly knew something about the human body but his visage became only more grim as his questioning progressed. He continued from his examination of my hands to my feet and then, my back. I lost track of the questions he was asked; some about prior injuries, some about numbness in his feet and then some about my bodily routine. It was strange to see a head priest ask about someone’s bowels.

Neel smiled at the questions, “My master is the village priest and the village healer. Our village is too small to afford its own physician.”

“There is a scar on your back. It is like a burn but darker as if you were hit by lightning. Do you know how you got it?”, asked the Master, gently palpating the small of my back. A cool lightning did seem to course through my head as the master felt that area.

“No, Master. But I do feel an odd sensation in my mind when you do that. Come to think of it, when I lie on my back, it is as if someone is poking my brain”, I recollected.

It was not long before I was being asked to lift pots filled with stones again and again. Despite the growing fatigue in my arms, I did as I was told to. The master finished his questioning by assigning me a task. He sent Neel to fetch some iron ingots from the village blacksmith and fill them in two pots.

“I want you to extend your arms and hold a pot in each hand until you can longer do so. Pray to Lord Shiva while you are at it. Perhaps the Lord will show you the way if he has guided you this far.” With that, he left with Neel to tend to their cows.

The exercise seemed difficult at first but soon, a familiarity rose within me. I had done this before. Somewhere, somehow, I knew how to do this. My arms found a new strength and I could feel the strain in my arms disappearing as I remembered how to cope with the pain. Out of nowhere, I developed a soft hum to keep my mind occupied. It was time for some answers to the questions and if holding two pots meant finding those answers, then so be it.

Time flew by but the master was busy with his errands. As the rumbling in my belly increased, I realized I had not had anything to eat apart from that apple in the morning. I figured praying was better than thinking about imaginary mangoes so I began reciting a prayer I had heard that morning from the master.

It would be hours before the master returned to find me drenched in sweat but holding the pots steady. He motioned for me to relax and keep them down.

The master started as he sat down with a scroll, “Neel, fetch me a parchment and some ink. I have an idea but I want to confirm it. Ruksh, you did very well. Did the Lord bless you with some answers? I suppose you did not keep the pots down even for a moment.”

I nodded yes and no to his questions but kept my silence.

The Master continued, “Good, good. Well, perhaps this will be some consolation. You are not a mace-man like Neel thought but you are Kshatriya. Very few Brahmins have your physical endurance and in your case, it is certainly learned. That exercise is something archers regularly do to improve the stability of their aim. Ruksh, you are an archer.”

An archer? Something about that idea brought pride in me. I could imagine myself holding a bow, firing arrows in the sky.

Neel wondered aloud as he set the parchment before his master, “But Master, how did you know?”

The master laughed, “The muscles on his upper back, Ruksh. Look there! Come, Ruksh, extend your arms like before. Show your new friend what he should be looking for. Archers have a very specific build in the muscles of their back. Ruksh has them on both sides. This and the fact that he could maintain such a heavy weight in this position leaves me with no doubt. Ruksh is an archer, and an ambidextrous one at that.”

My head was beginning to spin and not just from the master’s theory. I could feel the curve of a bow and the tension of a bowstring in my hands as the master described his theory.

“Ruksh here is a born archer. I am sure of it. No one can learn to shoot with both arms with practice alone at such a young age. So, Ruska, try to meditate. Think hard! Do you remember holding a bow before?”

I tried to follow that familiar feeling of a bow in my hands. I could think back to the musical sound of a bowstring, the power and exhilaration of an arrow being loosed and finding its mark.

Suddenly, a splitting headache took hold of me and I collapsed shrieking in agony. It was like before but worse. A feeling that even thinking about lifting a bow would be the last thing I would ever do. The last I could remember was a flash before my eyes as I collapsed.


	3. The Trigger

When I came to, I was lying on a wooden cot amidst the familiar dwelling of head priest. It was still bright outside but the hue of dusk was also visible from the door. I could hear some words but they might as well have been animal sounds to me. It would be a few moments before anything I heard made any sense to his ears. 

“…please see if you can give your opinion on the matter. Your servant, Meru of Vanga. Now, seal that letter and give it to the next patrol that comes by tomorrow morning, Neel.”

The master was speaking while reading another scroll whereas Neel was busy transcribing his words on a fresh parchment and waving it in the air to dry the ink. In a few moments, he rolled the parchment and sealed it in a wooden cylinder to preserve it from the elements.

“Ah, Ruksh. You are awake. We had begun to fear the worst. What happened?” 

The master, whose name was apparently Meru, left his scrolls and came up to the cot to check my arms. His questions were similar to the ones he had asked previously. He began checking my wrists and eyes while asking if I was feeling anything unusual. After a few minutes, when he was satisfied that he could find nothing abnormal, he told me to try walking on the street for a few minutes to see if there was any disorientation or weakness. 

He told Neel to lend me his shoulder and if there was no difficulty in walking, to take me on a walk to the edge of the village.

“A little fresh air would do you some good, Ruksh. Neel, walk slowly but come back if our guest starts to feel sick in any way. Ruksh, with your permission, I would like to send a missive to my teacher in Magadha. He is one of the finest physicians there in service to the king. I have described your peculiar burn and your condition. Neel, the sentry should still be at the palisade. Give him the message and tell him it is to be given to the morning patrol bound for Magadha.”

I nodded in agreement. If there was someone who could make sense of what had happened to me, I wanted to talk to them. I left with Neel and as we walked through the village, we ran into farmers returning from their fields. It seemed that Meru commanded not a small degree of respect as even the village elders came up to us and inquired of the master’s health and that of his acolyte. They looked at me with equal parts curiosity and envy to have gained the hospitality of Meru’s home. 

As we left the missive with the sentry, I asked Neel about the village itself. I figured it was best to know where I was even if I could not tell anyone where I came from. 

According to my guide, this village was one of this district’s 17 villages. Together, 9 districts made up the kingdom of Vanga. It was ruled by King Paundraka along with his own state of Kashi, vassal to the greater King Jarasandha of Magadha. 

“Vanga has close relations to Magadha. King Jarasandha and his vassals protect us from the Kuru kings who surround us in all directions.”

The mention of the Kurus stirred something in me. Rather than risk another headache, I preferred to get my information from Neel instead. 

Neel was happy to oblige, “The Kuru kingdom is one of the greatest in the land. They are second only to the combined armies of our own King Jarasandha in Magadha. Their strength lies in their generals like Bhisma of the Terrible Oath, Drona the Greatest Weapons Master and Arjuna, the greatest archer alive. Lately, they sent a new vassal king to our border kingdom of Anga to the east of us. Then, they allied themselves with Kalinga to our south in a marriage alliance. Basically, the Kurus have us surrounded from two sides. That makes the King….cautions” 

Neel was clearly aware of saying his king was afraid but I understood his meaning. A King was only one man. How many war fronts could he handle alone? 

Neel realized my interest in the topic so he elaborated, “Jarasandha’s recent campaigns against Dwarka have left his armies tired so his soldiers are always on the lookout for more conscripts. A delicate power balance exists between the three great powers at the moment. Pray that it remains so.”

I pressed the question further, “Anga! Tell me more about Anga!...please, it sounds familiar”

Neel was taken aback at my outburst but continued, “Well, Anga is a small kingdom but it acts as a countermeasure between us and the Kurus. They know Magadha cannot attack the Kurus at Hastinapur with its back exposed to Vasusena at Anga.” 

Hastinapur!, Kurus!, Anga!

That names rang a bell in my mind. But as if in response, I could feel the pain returning to my mind. 

I pleaded with Neel to return lest I become an invalid in the middle of the village street. I asked him to speak of anything other than the Kurus for now. It appeared that my own head had a mind of its own in refusing me knowledge of my past. And now, I was sure that two things were related to my past: the Kurus and archery.

Neel spoke of his own home from then on. He told me of his life in an orphanage and how Meru had rescued him to raise as his own son. “The Master raised me for the last ten years after my parents were lost to a flood. I have been learning of the Holy Scriptures and the healing arts from him ever since. What about you? Any plan on what you are going to do now?”

The question took me by surprise. Until this morning, my life seemed limited to finding food and sleeping under a tree. In a few hours, I had been raised from an impoverished monk to a broken archer. I assumed sticking with Meru would do me no harm for now.

“Until the Master can find some answers from Magadha, you are welcome to stay here. He would be happy to have another helping hand with the planting season coming upon us. He has some sway here with the village elders. There is no shortage of work if you want to earn an honest day’s wages”, said Neel.

Weighing my options, guaranteed work and decent temple food seemed like a better option compared to the open tree and table scraps as alms. I agreed to Neel’s proposal and allowed him to broach the subject with Meru. To no one’s surprise, Meru welcomed me into his home.

“Of course, Ruksh. Who am I turn away someone in Lord Shiva’s sanctuary? Welcome!”, Meru embraced me with a bear hug that knocked the breath out of me while Neel stood laughing. “Your strength would be wasted until planting season. You should seek out the blacksmith tomorrow. Speak my name and he will do what he can for you.”

I bowed to Meru for his kindness and his hospitality. As I broke bread with the master and his student that night, I prepared myself to meet my future with a new resolve.


	4. Grim Tidings

Meru’s word turned out to be as good as gold with the blacksmith the next day. Being the familiar beggar by the river, most villagers had tolerated my presence up to this point. Meru’s hospitality had elevated me to someone just above the common street rat.

The blacksmith, a giant of a man aptly named Ugrasena, had only to hear the recommendation of the head priest to change his opinion of me. He told me to start working on the forge, stoking the fires and helping him hammer on the occasional tool. As the day finished, Ugrasena seemed satisfied though he did not show it. He asked me to return the next day for some work and said that my wages would start once I had learned enough to work independently.

It dawned on me that Meru had bartered my services with the blacksmith for work repairing the priest’s house. I felt used at first but it seemed fair on greater thought. Meru was a poor man who had opened his home to a stranger. He had taken upon himself to help me. The shelter and food of his house deserved some compensation by my account.

I returned to Meru’s hut completely drained of energy and yet, I felt happy. I had done something with the day; I had helped create something of use to someone. The meal I would eat today would be earned, not received in charity. Meru was ecstatic to see the temple kitchens repaired. I was convinced the old man would have been happy to see me nonetheless.

As we lay eating a bare meal of barley and oat cakes, I overheard the news freshly received in these parts from local patrols. “The Pandavas have returned from their self-imposed exile in Panchala, master. It would appear that Hastinapur is to be divided between the branches of the Kuru household. The old city of Hastinapur would go to the Kaurava prince Duryodhana while the Khandava forest goes to Pandava prince Yudhishtir”, Neel read aloud from the communique he had received from the patrol.

Meru, it seemed, could not care less, “And we will still be sitting here eating our simple food tomorrow, Neel. Calm down and eat your food. Whatever happens, King Jarasandha is still powerless to do anything…oh be quiet, you fool! No one is going to overhear us here!”

Neel was livid at the open mockery of the king. He ran to peek outside for any passersby. Only when he was convinced that they had not been overheard, he returned to his seat. Meru smiled and turned to me, “Neel thinks I should hold my tongue in my own home from speaking the truth. King Yudhishtir is still subservient to Hastinapur, if I heard the message correctly. That means King Jarasandha has the same number of enemies on all sides. Do not discount Vasusena, even without Yudhishtir. He wrestled our king for 21 days forcing him to submit. King Jarasandha would not have dared to attack Bhisma in Hastinapur with that demon of a warrior watching his back. Nothing has changed. The power balance remains the same. Now, eat your food!”

The next day was the same with Ugrasena tasking me with deliveries all over the village. The fisherman needed new hooks for his boat. The carpenter needed a new saw. The lumberjacks needed their axes sharpened. The farmers needed their ploughs fixed. Business was booming for Ugrasena and although he did not show it, he was happy for the help.

The village, it appeared, worked on a barter system. The farmers dropped off wheat sacks for their ploughs. The fisherman gave me his prize catch of the day in return for the hooks. The lumberjacks handed me their finest wood blocks for the forge. All shared as much as they could spare, keeping the use of coins to a minimum, which was puzzling at first.

By the end of the week, I had a rudimentary understanding of the village’s barter system. It was pioneered by Meru and it worked. It kept the tax collectors off their backs because no one had any coins to use in the first place. And when they did come by, they could only tax on the stockpiles that were visible, not what was shared with others.

It took a few weeks before the other villagers started getting used to my presence. The fact that my name elicited more than a few laughs helped smooth the conversations to some degree. With my insistence, Meru started offering my services to others around the village. I helped the fishermen weave their nets, carried the trees fallen by woodcutters back to the village on some days but the most arduous work was that of the fields. The heat and the constant rhythm of the farm work taxed even my endurance and yet, it never seemed to end.

Neel told me that the planting season when most of the crop seeds were planted so every available hand in the village helped in the fields. Anyone who could not handle the sickle or the plough would help with the meals. Even Meru and Neel joined me in tending to the farms, although the farmers were appalled to ask priests for their help. Meru, who I realized was not like other priests I had met, had his own notions. He and Neel brushed aside the farmers’ objections and readily handled the ploughs with ease.

Nights were a welcome respite from the endless and my body ached constantly. Meru was often eager to distribute his remedies much to the appreciation of our weary bodies. As the planting came to an end, most of the village enjoyed the lull in preparation for the harvest. I was now on good terms with some families of the village who had no children old enough to help and who appreciated a good farmhand. The results, however, were not lacking in their bounty.

Soon, the farms brimmed with a green hue that lasted beyond the horizons. The village had come together in a solidarity that was rarely seen. I, too, could notice the difference in my own body. The constant hours of back-breaking work had only helped regain my strength. The hours I spent in Ugrasena’s forge hammering on his anvil and working the ploughs had given me a new awareness of my senses and my strengths. What I did not know was what to with that strength. I now had a great deal of time on my hands but the master-student duo had other plans for me.

Meru convinced the village sentry to take me along on his patrols. It was an odd departure from my regular duties but I chalked it up to Meru’s eccentricity. The duo, however, took me aside before handing me over the guard. Both of them looked flustered and Neel kept checking the surrounding for anyone who could overhear us.

It was Meru who spoke first, “Ruksh, there is something I must tell you before sending you to the village guard. Neel, is there anyone around?”

Neel, who was waiting by the doorstep of their hut, shook his head to indicate a clear area. “Good, now look here, Ruksh. The only people here who know you are a Kshatriya are me and Neel. For the rest of the village, they think you are some wandering monk I have taken on as a student. Neel has told you of the hunt here for army recruits in these parts, has he not? Have you never wondered why they never came for you?”

I had to admit that the question made sense. Compared to some of the other youths around here, I was often the target of curious stares from the villagers. The men, I was told by a laughing Neel, mostly stared out of intrigue and not a small amount of jealousy at the attentions of the fairer sex that I was apparently oblivious to. It was only a matter of time before someone talked.

Meru had the same idea but along a different line of thought, “Attention is the last thing Ruksh needs right now. I am getting troubling reports from Magadha. My contacts there have yet to respond about Ruksh but they tell me Jarasandha has called for a new raid against Dwarka. They are combing the seaside villages for Kshatriya recruits and our friend here looks a lot like a warrior without that monk’s robe. One of these days, someone here will ask the wrong question to the wrong person and Ruksh here will be hauled off to join Jarasandha’s war machine.”

This grim news was the last thing I had expected after such a long time of newfound peace. Meru was grim in these tidings and Neel was ever-vigilant. I mulled over what I had heard and came to a single conclusion. I needed to get away from Vanga and into one of the Kuru states. When I brought up the idea, Meru was aghast.

“No, no no! I told you attention is the last thing you need right now. Jarasandha’s recruiters are looking for people running _away_ from Magadha, not _towards_ it. No one will suspect a poor monk working his way through a harvest season. I am convinced that the answer to your past lies in the Kuru lands but that path goes through Magadha. My teacher there knows something or else he would not have remained silent so long.”

Neel too chimed in, “What else can he do here, master? He has to get out before he is caught.”

Meru slowly formed a smile, “I have a plan to get you to Magadha but it will require some finesse on your part, Ruksh. You must get there on _your own_ terms. You will work the next few weeks with the village guard. No one will object to one more man keeping away the animals from the crops. Work with them, learn from them. They are the closest you will come to the Kshatriya here who can teach you how to defend yourself. Plus, you will be out of sight from prying eyes in the fields. Do you understand what I am saying?”

I nodded in agreement. Not that I had any other choice. Meru had a plan for me and the best I could do was learn to fight. And I promised myself that if the worst happened, I would go down fighting like a lion. Not like a lamb in some conscript battalion.


	5. The Pawn

 

“Do you see any movement?”

“No, sir”

“Then you are dead. Look again!”

I could hear some silent curses from behind me but that was was to be expected. The leaves ahead of me rustled to one side and a small growl emanated from below. I slowly backed away, crawling behind a tree trunk. An arm nudged my own and my companion gave me the signal to tell me the trap was ready. I groaned with a low moan but covered my mouth so as not to alert my quarry.

Usually, trapping a bloodthirsty tiger before it eats someone is a happy notion for everyone. Except for the poor soul who has to act as the bait.

And today, I was the bait.

I had spent the last three days up to my elbows in a marsh braving snakes, crocodiles and mosquitoes to monitor the border of the village for an enemy scouting party. Instead of relief, I was told that I was needed for another heroic task. In my limited experience, anything heroic usually meant really disgusting work or really dangerous work. In this case, it was both.

I had been stripped of my robes and smeared completely in mud, cow feces and dried leaves. Then, I was asked to track a tiger that was eating all the local cow herds and make just enough noise to alert it to my presence. After that, the task involved a great deal of running and even more silent praying.

My companion, Rudra, the most senior member of the village guard, had joined me. Any notion of my gratitude evaporated before it was expressed when he told me in his usual charmless way that he did not wish to waste a perfectly good trap that had taken him hours to make on a rookie.

And so, two men smeared in enough dirt to pass off as small calves slithered back over a pit. As we neared its edge, Rudra gave the signal and leaves behind us started shaking. A calf tied behind us was poked to make it bleat. The tiger, as expected, prickled its ears and paced towards us. No sooner had it pounced and landed before us that it fell into the pit.

It was a majestic beast, large enough to kill a horse with a single thrust of its claws, and that was a proven estimation much to the woe of a particular horse owner in the village.

The rest of the villagers soon came out of their hiding spots and the calf was happy to go back to its tiger free pen. As they transferred the tiger onto another cage, a hand rested on my shoulder. I turned around and saw Rudra pointing me towards a nearby stream. The villagers were eager to run up and congratulate us but the particular smell of our cover was off-putting even to the tiger.

As we bathed, Rudra spoke very little. He never spoke beyond a few grunts and when he did speak, there were usually two reasons – drinking and disciplining someone. Both instances were equally injurious to the health of anyone in his immediate vicinity at the time.

The first time Meru had introduced me to him, I had imagined him to be mute. His way of pointing to tasks instead of verbal commands made it seem like it was so. That particular illusion had been broken when some poor recruit had dropped a set of spears on his foot. On that day, he had really proven to be like his namesake when his roars could be heard in the next village.

At first, he flatly denied my very existence. I spent two days outside his hut which doubled as a gathering and training arena for the village members. I could have complained to Meru and the priest would have no doubt set the matter straight. But that is when I realized that this was a test. Rudra was testing my resolve. After all, I was the student and he was the teacher. I had to prove that I was patient enough to learn. And learn, I did.

The man may not have spoken but his daily routine alone was a lesson in itself. From his morning exercises to the way he maintained his small armory and even the way he formed the patrol routes, every action was a lesson waiting to be learned. He would have made an excellent general in different circumstances. By the end of the first week, he grudgingly told me to copy his exercises and follow him on his patrols. His instructions were always short and to the point, expecting the listener to pay attention to every command. He never let me wield any of his weapons but his training regimen in wrestling and martial arts would have let me take on even the most heavily armored opponent with ease. After six months of grueling training, I had graduated in his eyes from nuisance to a more tolerable nuisance and now, tiger bait.

When we finished bathing, Rudra held me back out of earshot of the celebrating villagers, “You performed well enough, runt. Give the priest a message for me. Tell him to stop.” And then my trainer left me in the most confused state I had been since the day I met Neel.

_Stop? Stop what?_

Meru, on the other hand, laughed on hearing this when I related the incident, “Ha! Tell Rudra not to worry for me. You just go back tomorrow like you always do, Ruksh.”

That was easy to say for the priest but I dreaded angering that giant.

The next day, Rudra saw me coming up the street and on hearing the message, he clasped his head and shrank on his knees, “That fool! That stupid old fool! When will he learn?!”

At this point, I too had more questions and the inkling that this was probably related to me, “Sir, I need to know what this is about. What does Meru need to stop?”

Rudra looked up at me with tired eyes and slowly spoke, “ _You!_ I needed him to stop asking me to train _you!_ You are at the stage of weapons training now. Meru is playing with dangerous forces if he thinks I can train a fully capable warrior and still keep you hidden from the King’s spies. His influence will run out one day and I will not be there to save him”

_Meru? Influence? How was Meru in danger when I was the one at risk of being sent to a conscript battalion?_

I nearly said as much when Rudra brought up a hand and silenced me beforehand, “Do not bother. I am not in the habit of sharing everyone’s affairs. Go to the riverside if you want to gossip with the women.”

With that, he left and brought out two iron staffs, thrusting one in my hand, “From this moment, your weapons training starts. This is a quarter staff. It is the most versatile weapon you will ever use. Swords can dull. Arrows can miss. Maces can break. But a good staff will always serve you well. Now, defend yourself!”

Without a warning, he brought up his staff knocking mine out of my grasp.

“That was your first mistake. Never drop your weapon! You may as well march up to the enemy and let him stab you. Again!”

I picked up the staff and readied myself. This time, he twirled his staff behind his back and suddenly brought it in a low swipe at my feet. I barely had time to block it when he reversed the flow and hit me on my other foot. It made me jump but I had survived tougher blows in the wrestling arena. Ugrasena’s punches alone had enough strength to break these staffs in two.

Rudra did not give me a chance to catch my breath, however. He barreled into me as I had jumped, knocking me on my back. The staff almost slipped from my grasp but I held onto it and brought it up just in time to block his finishing blow.

He stood over me, waiting for me to get back up, “Second mistake, you remained planted. This is not wrestling. This is fighting. In a fight, you remain mobile. Keep moving. Use the terrain to your advantage. Keep your enemy guessing your position. Again!”

Rudra was adamant on instructing me the entire day even after dusk. Fortunately, my reflexes were well honed from the months of scouting in the deep marshes to adjust to the darkness. I could fight using sound alone but the staff was a new element. Rudra was not restraining himself, I realized, either to make me suffer enough to quit or worse, hurt me enough to force me to quit. That made me angry. Being a messenger between Meru and Rudra was one thing but to be the pawn and suffer for their disagreements was quite another. I poured my frustrations in my attacks and started hitting back more ferociously.

By the end of the day, I had managed to land a few hits myself. Rudra grunted in his usual tone and collected both staffs. I understood the meaning. I was adept enough but still needed improvement. The unusually eloquent and talkative Rudra was now gone as well. As I walked back home, questions ran in my mind from the morning’s events.

Meru was still an enigma to me. The man I thought to be an eccentric priest had proven to be more resourceful than I thought. Rudra’s outburst had confirmed my suspicions and heightened my curiosity. How many village priests had enough clout to send messages via royal patrols? How many village priests knew how to heal as well? How many village priests could openly mock their order’s traditions and work in the fields with the lower castes? And how many village priests could openly mock the king himself?

Meru was planning something and they involved making me a fully trained warrior. That much was obvious to me. It was also evident that he wanted me to help me reach Magadh. The question that remained was for what purpose?


	6. Beaten

 

“You are still dropping your left guard. Keep it up!”

I looked up from my one good eye.  The other one was swollen shut. It had been a month since I had started practicing with Rudra. We had progressed to the spear now and I could see the difference in the two weapons apart from the addition of a pointed end.

“I cannot see on my left side courtesy of your last gift, sir”, I muttered silently, right before parrying a strike that would have impaled my head clean through.

Rudra simply grunted. He was enjoying my torture immensely even though he did not show it. Three of his recruits were circling around me like vultures, waiting for a coordinated strike with their own spears. The spear blades had been covered with cloth layers to dull any strike but that only meant a hit would hurt more temporarily without more permanent damage. I did not know what Rudra had told them but they attacked me with a ferocity reserved only for the most hated enemies. I had distinctly overheard some mention of their mothers when their collective faces glared towards me.

The first one, a young one named Kesari, went for my gut. His attacks always coincided with a second attack from my second opponent, Vasu, who favored hitting me on the back of my head. In the event I dodged both attacks, the third one, a beast called Vamik, preferred hitting me on my knees and ankles.

It was always a three pronged strike to destabilize my footing, then make me lose balance, expose my blindspots and finally, go for the finishing blow. I had suffered enough hits to know their pattern always switched between them on the fifth strike. Rudra may have instructed my tormenters to remain unpredictable but fighters always returned to a a reliable pattern.

Still, I could see this was the fifth attack. Vamik went for my left knee expecting my blinded eye to not notice the incoming hit. I jumped on one leg, sideswiping my left leg in arc and catching him in the face and sending him flying into Kesari. Simultaneously, I brought up my spear behind me to block Vasu’s spear and redirected it into his groin. I fervently hoped Vasu was not planning on having any more children.

Rudra always said dirty fighting was the best way to win. A dead opponent could not complain of broken rules. Besides, honorable combat was for the highborn.

Kesari, meanwhile, regained his stance and thrust his spear towards my chest. I turned sideways, redirecting the spear and used my free hand to grasp the shaft rotating it to free it from his grasp. He was standing before me weaponless and about to surrender. As I stood with both spears in my hands grinning and feeling victorious, I suddenly felt a hit on the back of my thighs, making me fall face first in the ground.

Rudra landed on top of me and grabbed both spears from my hands. Apparently, my lessons were not over. The number of opponents could change at any time so it was important to watch for surprises. Also, I was not the only one who could fight dirty. Lesson learned!

The master’s intervention meant the match was over. Kesari extended his hand to help me up, “Good move you pulled there, Ruksh. I don’t think Vasu is going to volunteer to train with you anytime soon.”

Vasu, lying in a fetal position and grabbing his groin, was being helped up by Rudra who directed him towards a cool pond for him to lie in.

Vamik was bleeding from a cut on his cheek but he patted my back and laughed off any offers of a poultice.

“Good? He took us all on by himself while he was wounded and half-blind. I have never seen anyone learn this fast in my life. We were still beating you up senseless a month ago. If you weren’t a monk, I could swear you were warrior born.”

My face was still grinning but a shock went through me. Rudra looked up at me, his face hard with anger, as if to yell ‘I told you so’.

I may have laughed it off but Meru’s words were beginning to sound true. Someone would soon make the connection that a common monk was a little too good at fighting.

When he dismissed us, Rudra held me back to replace the weapons. His habit of religiously caring for his armory had rubbed off on me. We both dabbed the spears with oil, careful of removing any moisture and dirt off the blades. The shafts were wrapped in a woolen sheath and bundled together with a leather cord. Only when they were replaced in their special cellar, did Rudra look to my own wounds and gave me poultice for my eye and the bruises.

“You heard Vamik, yes? Now, go home and tell Meru to expect me tonight. This farce has gone on long enough.” With that, he turned and left for his evening patrol, leaving a battered student behind him.

I walked back home, observing the villagers going about their daily routines. The men were returning home from their work, rejoining their families. They were poor men who had but a few earthly possessions to their name. Even the earth below them truly belonged to the king. Yet, they were content. They were…happy.

On more than a few occasions, especially after one of Rudra’s more brutal training sessions, I had always wondered if this new life would be so bad if I embraced it. Meru was a good teacher. I could take a wife here, raise a new family. Who cared about being a warrior? Even thinking about it was literally a headache.

Then, the cold reality would often come back to haunt me. I could not hide what I was even if I tried to. Too many people here knew of my abilities. In a few months, I had gone from street monk to the most adept spearman and scout in three villages, next to Rudra. The news from Magadha was not comforting, either. Jarasandha’s raids against Dwarka had exhausted his vast army so he was trying an ulterior route. The king had directed his attentions to other smaller states for gathering royal prisoners, 95 so far, for a sacrifice to Lord Shiva. The object was simple – gain enough power to crush the coastal city of Dwarka. Meanwhile, his armies were stretched so thin keeping all these newly acquired territories in check that the army recruiters had been reduced to recalling retired old veterans into active service. Rudra himself had been tasked with preparing the men of three villages in fighting. Hence, keeping my identity a secret in front of all these new recruits was beginning to be an even more tiresome task.

My day dreams left me unaware of when I reached Meru’s hut. Neel was waiting by the door, seeing one of his students off with some lessons for the evening.

“Ah, good, you are back, Ruksh. It has been a few days since Rudra sent you home intact on two legs. Give me a few minutes while I finish up with young Vikat here”, he greeted me in his usual cheer and turned back to his student, “Now, Vikat, go home and practice your arithmetic. Your father expects you to take over his business someday and a good vaishya needs to know his numbers. Off you go!”

I lied back on a bench in the courtyard as he fetched some water for us both. “At least your students do not have to limp back home. Mine takes a sick pleasure in making me suffer.”

Neel laughed, “I think my students would disagree. Suffering of the mind is a lot worse than-“ and then he bit his lip realizing who he was speaking to.

My mental ailment was a sore topic for me so everyone made it a rule not to bring it up unless necessary. I waved him down to let him know that it was alright.

But it was not alright. It was one thing to forget. But when my own mind was actively trying to make forget and punish me for even trying to remember, it seemed unusually cruel. Fortunately, I was too tired to give it any more thought. I had come to an odd sense of peace with whatever demon was sitting in my head. I had nicknamed it The Presence for good measure.

_I won’t bother you if you don’t bother me._

In the event, I accidentally triggered a memory, Meru had provided me with a few hymns and riddles to occupy my attention and clear my mind.

That was one of the advantages of Rudra’s lessons. They usually kept me so busy (or bruised) that I gave no thought to my past. I did not know if I was relearning some old skill or building up on my prior mysterious experience, but somehow, the demon in my head did not seem to mind.

I looked up at the stars as dusk approached and Neel started preparing for his evening prayers. I usually joined them at the riverside to keep up the pretense of my monkhood but those daily visits were strangely relaxing. The setting sun seemed to leech away my pain and sorrow before descending below the horizon.

Today, Meru insisted on awaiting Rudra’s arrival, conducting their prayers in the temple instead. Rudra arrived just after supper under the cover of darkness. Neel, as usual, kept watch at the door to ensure no one could overhear them.

“This has to stop, Meru! He is advancing too quickly. He can already go toe to toe with me and I have been practicing for decades. Someone is bound to notice”. Rudra did not even bother to sit down, preferring to stand in a corner.

I stood in a corner as the two men decided my fate, opting to listen to all the facts before chiming in. Both of these old men had their secrets and they especially became more reserved in their conversations when speaking to me. This evening, there were no such reservations and I hoped to pick up some clue as to what was going on between the two, likely as it would concern me.

Meru was not his usual jovial self. And anything that troubled that old priest meant even more trouble for me.

“People _always_ notice. It is what they do. We knew this would happen someday and Ruksh has been prepared for it. His training will continue as usual but I am sure we can take some precautions”

Neel interjected with a thought, “Perhaps you can practice in the forest when you are both patrolling.”

“An armed horseman with a spear attracts more attention than a roughed up recruit in my arena. It is not entirely impossible…” Rudra mulled over the idea, “I could hide some spears in the forest. We could go there by foot. I’ll chalk it up to his reconnaissance training. By Lord Shiva, he really _could_ use it.”

I was a bit peeved to be called a sloppy scout when he was the one who could not even hold his stomach gases in check when patrolling. I held my tongue out of respect and the fact that I knew Rudra had to get the last word. His taunts were his way of complimenting others.

Meru, still grim, turned to me, “Good. That settles that. But I have received some more …troubling news. Ruksh, do you know what an astra is?”

_Astra?!_

I had never heard of it, but the moment I could feel the return of the Presence, I knew it was going to be added my growing list of ‘unthinkable’ topics. I started singing a hymn while Meru recognized the grimace in my eyes.

“I knew it! This runt was hit by an astra. Do you realize what this means? Do you know who are you giving shelter to? If the king finds out I trained a rathi, he will have me beheaded!”, Rudra hissed while Meru kept his gaze towards me.

Slowly, he spoke, “This makes things difficult. But Lord Shiva guided him to us. We are bound to protect him and help him in any way we can.”

“Sanctuary? That’s the reason you would risk your neck. Well…you can test the king’s mercy but I won’t. I did not offer him any sanctuary. Count me out of this madness, minister. If I see him near my home again, I will kill him myself!”, Rudra yelled as he left the hut with a bewildered Neel trailing after him, begging him to return.

“Neel! Let him go. He needs time to process this. As for you, Ruksh, I bet you have some questions now.” Meru had a tired smile but I had just been hit with a mountain of information.

I forced myself to think and replay the entire conversation by breaking it down into parts I could separately analyze. First, I had been with something called an astra. That meant I had greater abilities. Abilities meant power and if I had power, I was a threat to something or someone. Enough of a threat that a king would risk the sin of killing a priest over it. Second, Meru had been granted the king’s mercy for something he had done previously. And he was some kind of minister before. That meant he was in a position of power. And powerful people kept secrets. My next words had to be careful or I could risk the hospitality of my host if he thought I posed a danger to his own secrets.

“Let me first thank you, master. Your hospitality is welcome but not at the cost to your own neck. I was surviving well beneath that tree before. I can do so again” And I knew it to be the truth. With all that I had learned over the past few months, I could easily carve out a living in the forests.

“Surviving is not the same as living, son”, replied Meru, “Trust me when I say living in fear, without a purpose, is no life at all. Animals survive but men live.”

I was genuinely moved by the old man’s words and continued, “So be it. Then tell me, what is an astra? Rudra said I was hit by one. My guess is that scar on my back was made by an astra?”

Meru nodded, “Yes, astras are powerful weapons fashioned from the raw energies that make up the cosmos. Most are fashioned by the gods. Some by great sages with their immense yogic power that they accumulate with penance. But the end result is a weapon wielded by the greatest warriors in the world. Their use, however, is extremely dangerous. That is why they are entrusted only to those who prove themselves mentally capable of using them, usually archers, because of their mental focus. And there is one more rule to their use. A warrior can only use an astra against another warrior who has knowledge of the astras himself.”

Meru’s gaze bored deep within me as I realized his meaning. _I_ was an archer. If I was struck by such a weapon, it meant I was a warrior powerful enough to wield them.

“And what does rathi mean? Rudra said I was something called a rathi”, I asked Meru as I tried not to bring about another headache.

Neel was the one to answer then, “A rathi is an elite warrior who rides a chariot, trained in every aspect of warfare and every weapon imaginable. They usually hail from highborn Kshatriya families who train under the great sages. Any one of them can take on an army of thousands. Specifically, even the weakest of the rathis are capable of fighting off 5000 common soldiers simultaneously.”

“ _5000?_ I could barely fight off three without getting my face pulped today. You are telling me that I could fight over a thousand men at the same time?”, I asked with incredulity. Someone was playing a joke of cosmic proportions with me. I half-expected Rudra to come back laughing on my stupidity for falling for a prank.

Nothing of the sort happened although Meru started yawning. Even the existential woes of a man could not make Meru forego his sleep, “Whatever this means. We can deal with it tomorrow. A tired mind is of no use to anyone. Everyone, go to sleep!”

With that, he snuffed out the sole lamp, plunging the hut into darkness. I knew the old man was only giving me time to understand what I had just been told. As I lay under the pale moonlight, I could not make sense of what I had just learned. I was an elite warrior in another lifetime. Not just an elite but a Rathi.

It certainly explained how I was learning so quickly. My body already knew all these lessons. I was merely relearning them, building on my previous muscle memory. And the worst part of it was, I could not even rack my brain for the Presence would send me spiraling into painful madness. The frustration of it all boiled over in me and I felt a trickle on my face.

Tears….they were tears. It was a new experience. Hunger, thirst, even the elements were nothing compared to the utter exhaustion of knowing that something was keeping me from becoming a fully realized human being. The knowledge that the key to being great was locked away inside me just beyond my grasp and yet, I could not reach it.

And then, it dawned on me. Meru had realized this when he saw my scar. He had his suspicions and yet, he had me training. There was a reason behind it.

I could still train. I could relearn everything. At my learning pace, it would not take that long. The Presence only reacted when I tried accessing my memories of the abilities I already possessed. What if I could re-attain those abilities by making new memories – new experiences as it were?

Sleep came slowly that night. I tried fighting it but the fatigue was too great. I was too beaten to resist the calm that slumber brought.

 _Beaten but not broken,_ I swore.


	7. Preparation

“You want to learn what?!”

To be honest, that was the response I expected from Neel. What I did not expect was Meru to agree with me.

“He is right. Rudra cannot teach him anything more here. Nor can we expect him to risk his life for Ruksh”, said Meru non-chalantly.

Neel looked back and forth between us as if the world had gone mad, “Astras are not something you can buy from a roadside merchant. They are the weapons of the _gods_. Only highborne Brahmins or Kshatriyas can attain them and even then, their masters grant them to a select few archers.”

“Thank you, Neel. You have laid out an excellent path for us”, Meru intoned, “Ruksh here will have to get to Magadh, find the teachers who knows the astras, convince them of his warrior _and_ royal birth, train under them and then convince them he is mentally stable enough to handle the most powerful weapons of the cosmos. Did I miss anything?”

I smiled at first but Meru kept his calm visage as he said the words. He really meant it. He truly thought I could do all those things. “Master, I am a poor mentally damaged man sleeping in your hut on your charity and you expect me to do all that?”

“Correction, you may be poor and mentally _challenged_ but you are a _fighter._ Just imagine! A year ago, you were living beneath a tree. Today, you are a potential rathi. Lord Shiva works in mysterious ways. If he has shown you the way this far, He will guide you the rest of the way.”

Considering Meru’s utter faith in the Lord, it was difficult to sort out which of his ramblings were truth or humor or both. Whatever the situation may be, he would say the Lord’s name and let it sort itself out. Usually, that meant a great deal of work for Neel and me but sometimes, things did work themselves out.

“As far as the first step is concerned, I can get you to Magadh. The rest will be up to you. Have faith, son!” Meru placed a gentle arm to reassure me before turning to his student, “Neel, I need you to go find Rudra. Oh come now! He won’t hurt _you_ , only our friend here. Tell him I need his help one more time. In the meantime, we should get you prepared and underway, Ruksh”

And so, Meru and I started assembling the supplies over the next few days. Meru handed me a small but heavy pouch that clinked when it fell in my hands. I opened it to find a small fortune in silver coins. I was stunned when he furiously told me it was my earnings from the last few months. (“Did you really think my home needed _that_ many repairs?”)

I knew that the true use of coins would be in the city so I had to conserve them somehow. Still, I needed supplies and I started gathering them the only way I knew how. I fixed a few cart wheels for a very grateful farmer who offered me use of his oxen for a day in exchange. The ox cart helped me haul the trees for the woodcutters who gave me their finest stock of wood. Then, I bartered the wood with Ugrasena for two iron blocks and the use of his forge. Little by little, I stockpiled some wheat cakes, rope, a fishing net, a flint and some cloth for more robes. The only thing I truly needed now was a weapon.

Meru had somehow convinced Rudra to write me a letter of recommendation. He assured me that between the letter and my monkhood, doors would open for me all the way to Magadh. However, Rudra was adamant on not parting with even a single weapon out of his armory.

“I will write the damn letter but those weapons are needed for the village’s defense. I will not waste them on this runt”. Rudra was being his ever stubborn self which I had expected so I made a counteroffer.

“Fine, sir. Then help me _make_ a weapon. I have a few iron blocks. Help me make a spear, please”, I pleaded with him and added, “I can work the forge myself. Ugrasena will not find out”

A grunt and a nod was the all the answer Rudra would ever give in agreement. We met at the forge in the afternoon when most of the villagefolk were busy in the farms or escaping the sun. Neel took it upon himself to distract Ugrasena with a lecture on the benefit of blessings on forged metallic goods.

Rudra was aghast when I described my design to him. Meru had been regaling us of of the tales of one of his journeys when he had mentioned a weapon of both soft and hard power. A weapon that allowed its wielder to crush or to cut. The meaning of the story had been to be both merciful and brutal when needed but it had given me a different idea. Rudra grumbled but in the interest of time, showed me how to apply enough pressure while I hammered the blocks into two short staffs. They were both measured to my arm’s length with a short wide blade on one and a thinner but longer blade on another. I modified them with a symmetrical lock that drew a curious look from him.

As we made our exit from the forge covered in soot (and Ugrasena reconsidered anointing his forge), the three of us returned to Meru’s hut with a weapon of my own design. Rudra looked horrified at what he called were “two long swords too dull to make a dent in anything”. Instead, I locked them together to make a double ended spear which turned his ire into jealousy in a moment. The design allowed me to bind these in sheaths along my legs under my robe. Also, the weapon was unique in its design. That meant nobody knew how to counter it.

Then, there was the dual design. The wider end held weight in a smaller area so I had could inflict more blunt force when I needed to make wider, more powerful hacking movements. The longer blade was for more precise fighting where jabs and thrusts were needed. The weight was equally balanced between the two ends so there was no danger of the spear flying away from my grasp. Still, I added a sash to both pommels that I could wrap around my wrists, preventing me from ever losing grasp of my weapon.

Rudra was true to his word when he came by with a wooden cylinder on the hut’s doorstep. It had a parchment of woven cloth, speaking well of my character and skills and was affirmed with his seal. The unexpected addition was a small knife, the size of my palm with leather sheaths for the knife and my spears. It was a generous gift for the knife was extremely useful. It was sharp enough and small enough to be concealed for a quick surprise strike in close quarters where bigger weapons often required more maneuvering space.

“That is _my_ knife, runt. I fully expect you to return it to me someday” Those were the last words Rudra spoke to me before I left. I bowed towards his retreating back and quickly spoke a prayer of gratitude. As much as he may have taunted me, he was still my trainer….my first master. I swore I would survive whatever life may bring me. I was determined to return that knife to its owner someday.

As I lay in my cot on my last night in the village, I could sense something odd in my stomach. A sinking feeling took hold of me. I was _leaving_. Leaving behind the only friends and family I had known for a long time. Good men who had risked their necks to help me and train me. My departure had been in the works for days but the fact of it truly sank in just now within me. For the sake of these good men’s lives, I had to leave them behind. For _their_ sake, I told myself again and again.

I slept wishing for a longer night, if only to spend more time in this shambled hut that had sheltered me. I tried not to think of the numerous ways things could go wrong tomorrow. I had never been more than a day’s ride from the village. Once I crossed the river, I would be in unknown territory, literally. What was this thing that gripped my heart so?

And then it came to me…it was fear. Fear, the ultimate hurdle before any task. I was afraid of the unknown and it frightened me. Not only the fear of the future encounters but of what may I uncover about my past. Some part of me knew that a certain elite warrior had angered someone even stronger to the point that he had been hit with a weapon of the gods.

What if I met that man on the path tomorrow? I wondered what Meru would say to that in his infinite wisdom. (“You made the record for the shortest legendary trip, Ruksh!”). I laughed as I imagined Meru’s laughter and Neel’s earnest prayers. I would even regret missing Rudra’s daily beatings. All these made up what was familiar to me. What I could not imagine where these very men awaiting an executioner’s blade for helping me.

Whatever lies I had to tell myself, I could not bear to see that happen. I had to convince my heart that my own fear was nothing compared to their own. The others may not have said anything but I could see the terror in Rudra’s eyes and Neel’s nightmares when they had learned the truth of the astral wound. I had to lie to myself if need be. Soon, the fear began to ebb away.

I told myself that I was as prepared as I could ever be. Between Meru’s recollections and Rudra’s training, I had a fairly good idea where to hide and where to seek shelter. There were plenty of hostels for travelers and priests between here and Magadh. Rudra also mentioned a few unsavory places to avoid where dense forests had plenty of game and shortcuts through the army checkpoints. Neel too had pored over the maps to create a parchment with the entire route drawn down the finest detail.

It was early morning when a knock on the hut’s door woke us up. I immediately went for my staff and positioned myself beside the door’s entrance. Neel rushed to peek through a hole in the window while Meru stretched and yawned like a cat. “Calm yourself, Neel. It is likely Rudra. I asked him to come here.”

Neel breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door to our familiar giant. Rudra was dressed in his patrol attire; breeches of cotton with a tanned vest, vambraces and greaves made from boiled leather. He bore a white cloth turban on his head with another cloth fashioned like a mask across his lower face. Only his bloodshot eyes gave any indication of the face beneath.

“Is he ready?”, he asked Meru without as much as looking at me, “I am going to take the village folk on a surprise drill to the south. That should give you enough time to get Ruksh on his way.”

I realized that was the first time he ever said my name. Not runt or flea or any of the dozen names he had invented for me other than Ruksh. He gave me an inspecting look once over, nodded and left as swiftly as he had arrived.

Meru, meanwhile, had risen himself and brought the travel pack we had so carefully prepared over the last few days out of an earthen cellar, “Neel, would you mind fetching some water from the river? I do not want to send Ruksh without a proper blessing.”

Neel, puzzled, looked to me but followed his master’s orders when I shrugged my shoulder. I had no inkling why Meru would waste the precious time that Rudra had arranged for us. He had barely stepped out when Meru grabbed me by the arm with a strength I did not know he had. I grimaced but the priest was ferocious in his grip.

“Ruksh, we do not have much time so listen to me very carefully. This is not for Neel’s ears to hear. When you get to Magadh, you must NOT use my name until you reach the king. That city is a pit of vipers. Truth will be your greatest ally there. Do NOT and I repeat this, DO NOT LIE TO THE KING! Do you understand?”

“Um….no? Why would I lie to the king himself? Why would I even be presented in front of a king in the first place?”, I was surprised Meru would dump such an odd piece of advice on me at the moment I was bound to leave when I was supposed to use _his_ name to get inside the palace.

“My reputation is not as it once was in the capital. You will find that soon enough. The less you know about me, the better it will be for you. I doubt we will meet again, Ruksh, but I would prefer if you did not have to pay for my mistakes. You should go now. May Lord Shiva be with you”. With that, he let go of my arm and thrust my travel pack in my arms.

I hurried in putting on my robes and tying the sheaths to my thighs. The staffs would slide in them but their grips would within an arms reach. The knife I had secreted beneath a vambrace on my left forearm and covered it with mandalas. I was ready. Meru stood on the doorstep with his usual smile and not an iota of the grim man from a few moments ago. He had raised his hands to shower his blessings on me. I could swear I saw a trickle on his face but he turned to attend to the temple instead.

I felt bad about leaving without saying goodbye to Neel. It _was_ him that had rescued me from that life of a mendicant. His single act of kindness had changed my life. If only to say a proper farewell, it gave me one more reason to return here as I looked back on the hut for the last time.


	8. Wilderness for the Wild

Chapter 8

The familiar always becomes the favorite when in the unfamiliar.

It had been three days since I left the village and crossed Vanga’s borders into Magadha’s territory. Meru had been right so far in that the army checkpoints were looking for those running _away_ from the tyrant king. I was just another common street mendicant begging his way across the land while searching for my salvation. It was the truth in some regards. Or at the very least, it was the line I practiced if someone ever asked.

_Would it have killed Rudra to spare me a horse?!_

“No, it will kill _you._ ”, Meru had explained when I suggested ‘appropriating’ a horse from the local herds, “Monks do not travel on horses and they certainly do not steal. You must keep up the pretense as best as you can. Every little bit helps.” And he was right. If an amateur like Neel could suspect me, a trained eye could easily catch an imposter. It was best I stay away from human company as much as I could.

Hostels and merchantmen would have freely opened their doors when they saw my monks’ robes. I had but to ask. But the local forests and ponds had enough for me to forage. Besides, monks were expected to run around in forests performing penances. Meru had given me some tips on how to blend in with the wandering monks, especially how they forsook earthly pleasures to seek the divine. I borrowed their some of their practices to make me repulsive enough so that no one would even approach me for a closer look. The first step had been to give up washing my robes along with smearing some cow feces on them. I started growing out my hair and lathered some ashes from the burnt carcasses of my former meals on my forehead. I drew the line on my own personal hygiene and took every opportunity to bathe in isolated streams even if the clothes remained unclean.

Neel had lent me an old wooden bowl for alms, which was filled to brim for me at the slightest request. It annoyed me that I had to return to my older days of relying on alms even if it was necessary for projecting my false image. The more I saw hardworking farmers give away grain for my sake, the more I saw the wisdom of Meru’s words and I strove to spend as much time hunting for food on my own in the forests.

The more I saw of Magadh, the more I was convinced of the reason behind Jarasandha’s fearsome reputation. In some ways, his personality reflected in the way his kingdom was run. Meru’s tirades had painted an impressive picture of the king. He was someone who not necessarily evil, but rather someone who respected strength. He viewed the world as a jungle where only the strongest survived. If something was weak enough to be intimidated, it deserved to be beneath his rule. It was no wonder that kings flocked beneath his banner, offering him their vassalage. Those who pledged their loyalty to him would benefit immensely and those who opposed him were crushed in the wake of his massive army. Like its king, Magadh was powerful but it sheltered those who respected its strength.

The administration was deeply centralized with the capital controlling every aspect of the citizenry’s lives, but assuring them of prosperity and security. Judging by the number of security patrols I ran into, I could tell the army was well trained. These soldiers were not raw conscripts hastily thrown onto the battlefield. They were professionally trained and well equipped, each unit adaptable to fighting in any terrain. The irrigation canals and flood dykes alone diverted numerous local streams and rivers into canals that supplied organized agricultural districts. Unlike Vanga, the entire state had been reorganized like a spiderweb with villages sending their grain to central processing towns. These towns had the mills and markets to process any number of incoming raw materials, simultaneously acting as marketplaces for the finished products. Even an illiterate farmer could bring his grain to one of the towns, have it ground to flour, sell it off for a fair price and be on his way home in a day without being cheated by middlemen. Of course, there was also the added benefit that no one could skimp on paying the taxes since all the trades took place under the watchful eyes of the king’s inspectors. These towns further sent their income to the center of it all, Rajagriha, the capital of Magadha, where it was added to kingdom’s treasury. It was no wonder how Jarasandha had managed to restructure his entire kingdom in a single lifetime. Fear and greed could make people do horrible or great things.

As I approached the capital, it became more and more difficult to avoid security patrols. Forests soon became replaced by farms and planted orchards. Streams were increasingly diverted to irrigation canals which meant even fewer chances for me to bathe.

By the time the city came into view on the horizon, my smell was distinctly alienating every traveler on the road into giving me a wide berth. There was also the side effect of my bowl receiving fewer alms although no one bothered me.

To say that the city was massive would be an understatement. It was divided into three layers. The central part was an enormous collection of palaces and towers that could be seen far from the horizon. It was ringed by a great wall of sandstone with turrets armed to the teeth with ballistae. I would later learn that this was where the royal court, military command and the administrative nerve center of the entire kingdom resided. The second layer featured buildings that were wider but purposely kept shorter in height. This was where the mercantile warehouses, artists and tradesmen quarters were located. It was also under the direct sight of towers monitoring every transaction from the central part. The third and the outermost part were the households for the lower castes along with some outlying farms and pastures for the cavalry. The entire city was ringed with three layers of walls and chokepoints. Any attempt to penetrate the outer layer alone would be met with volleys from catapults and archers. As I probed and counted the patrol routes, I could not make out a single weak point in the outer perimeter for me to sneak through.

I was told at the city gates that Rudra’s letter may get me past the outer wall but the inner most sections required both proof of a significant fortune or business at the royal court.

I found lodgings at one of the outlying hostels outside the city. As long as I kept up the pretense, my bowl remained full of alms, especially with the numerous merchants flowing through. One sage had only to bless a trader for good fortune when all the others of his caravan decided to secure their own luck by giving donations to the monks in my hostel. I knew it was only a little time before there would be too many monks here, too few alms and the hostel would start charging the likes of me to drive us out. My stash of coins was already starting to dwindle and I knew that in order to survive, they had to be used sparingly. What I needed was a secure location from which to reconnoiter the city to gain entry and more importantly, someplace that was free. And there was only place that fit my needs.

Right at the edge of the city, lay the royal forest, full of hunting game and the like, exclusively for the king’s pursuits. Given the world conquering schedule of the king, I found it hard to imagine he had any time for hunting. From the conversations I had overheard, the King had left for an urgent mission to Chedi which meant that for the foreseeable future, no one was going to be hunting anything in the forest. For my purposes, it was the perfect spot to hide until an opportunity came along to infiltrate the city and seek out the king. The forest was indeed untouched and therefore, full of wild game which meant plenty of food for me. Due to the recent war campaigns and because no one imagined anyone would be foolish enough to live in a deadly forest, patrols were rare and more concerned with keeping the wild beasts from coming _out_ instead of people sneaking _in_.

Any attempt to enter the forest would have had to be done at night for any light source would have rendered me a target for the archers on the walls. For two days, I walked from the hostel to a lake near the forest, counting the number of steps and marking any outcroppings in the land. If anyone asked, I was a poor monk offering my morning prayers by the lake like the rest of the poor folk. From there, I estimated the distance to the forest’s edge and waited for night to fall. As night came, I struck out based on the calculations on the steps I had counted in daytime to estimate my distance from the forest. The sounds of animal life soon became louder, showing me I was close to my goal. Soon, I could hear the faint sounds of trees rustling and I knew I had reached the forest’s edge. I silently thanked Neel for his arithmetic lessons without which, I would have probably ended up swimming in the lake.

Feeling for any snakes with my staff, I rested and waited for dawn when I would go deeper into the forest. Meanwhile, I gathered as many dry leaves as I could feel and piled them in a cover over my robes before resting beneath them. Unless looked at closely, I would looks like a small pile of dried up leaves. I would venture forth deeper into my new home on the first light next morning.

I had had my fair share of jungle experiences. My training with Rudra had me eating snakes for breakfast so I counted my blessings to find a veritable orchard in the middle of the forest. Every fruit imaginable was there for my grasp without another man in sight for as far as the eye could see. I almost jumped to grab some for safekeeping but a part of me hesitated. It really was too big of a blessing to find such an orchard in the middle of the forest. These trees were different to grow in the same location together. Someone had _planted_ these trees for the express purpose of trapping trespassers or the game that would draw out the really big predators.

My new home was not as safe as I had thought it to be but I feared the animals in the city far more than the ones within the forest. I mentally marked the area for later exploration and crept along the orchard’s edge to explore the other areas which seemed like any other forest. There were plenty of tracks belonging to deer and smaller animals but also those I could make out of tigers and bears. At the very least, there were no elephants. An enraged elephant could decimate half a forest to kill its enemies.

Rudra’s training kicked in and I immediately climbed the first tree I could find to get my bearings. At the top of the tree, I could see the forest went on for a few hundred yards until it abrupty ended, making an almost perfect circle. No doubt the capital and the surrounding villages used the forest for wood but ensured it was well tended to. I searched for disturbances in the tree canopies or circling vultures. Both would indicate some form of human presence within the forest for only humans would cut down trees for use or leave behind animal carcasses as waste.

Any field camp required four essentials in my experience – access to food, water, good cover and good visibility of the surrounding perimeter.

I soon settled on a small grove of poplar trees that intersected to make a small canopy. They were downwind of any breeze I could feel, reassuring me I would not giving away my presence to any predators. There were vines aplenty on the surrounding trees that tied together to make an excellent hammock for me to sleep in. I scrounged for mushrooms and ground them to make a particularly noxious paste guaranteed to keep snakes away from the trees. A spigot fashioned from large leaves and set in a tree trunk would collect fresh water for my use. As I settled in, I knew that the orchard still merited a closer look. Such a rich source of food could not be ignored but I had to be careful.

A good hunter knows to lay traps and drive his quarry towards it. An even better hunter knows how to avoid traps set by his competitors. A good scout, on the other hand, knows how to steal the killed trophy out from under the hunter’s nose without him even realizing it.

The first trap I saw was a classic spike pit set over a rush of leaves around the berries that deer particular favored. Jumping over it using the vines hanging above was only the beginning when I noticed the overhanging poisoned spear to impale any escaping prey. The king must have been an extremely rotten hunter to need a maze of lethal death traps like this, I thought.

I foraged as many of the apples as I could for if properly preserved from the elements, they could last for days without rotting, making an excellent emergency food cache. I mentally checked for the essentials until I was sure the surroundings were thoroughly clear of any more traps or human markings.

It would be another day before I was sure that no one was watching me from the green shadows. I had all but named the trees waiting for my would-be watcher to surprise me but none came. It was an old trick I had learned from Rudra when we had been surveying a frontier post along the southern village border that ran with Kalinga. We were sure an enemy scouting team was shadowing us waiting for us to cross the borderline before attacking us. Rudra had ordered us to lie in a ditch covered with mud for the better part of two days before the enemy relaxed their guard and left their secure positions to check on their vanished enemy. That is when we launched ourselves and captured them for infiltrating into Vanga instead.

Rudra’s lessons still rang true, “Scouting requires patience. Most of your opponents will be scouts themselves who know how to be invisible. When against an enemy, the best tactic for you will be to run and hide. As a scout, you are the eyes and ears of the army. You will carry information about the disposition of your own _and_ enemy lines that can make the difference between victory and defeat. Your victory will mean another dead man only but your defeat, or worse, capture, may result in the fall of all your comrades. Your highest priority is to NOT GET CAUGHT! Leave the fighting to those on the battlefield.”

But his lesson had also stressed the fact that if a scout must fight, it should be on their own terms. It was important to establish positions to fall back on when pursued. These positions could be a simple ditch to hide in or more complex traps to catch a pursuing enemy. And so it was that I was waiting for a potential spy to make his first move while I calculated the ways to counter it. I was sitting with my back to the tree with my staff ready for a strike. A makeshift shield of bound twigs, enough to block any darts or arrows, lay in my hand ready to rise. I had gathered as many dry leaves as possible over my first foray in the forest and spread them around the blind-spots from my treetop. Anyone hiding from my sight would make enough sound just by their footsteps to give away their position. No sound had arisen and no one was in sight.

For now, I was convinced I was free to roam the wild. A wild man in a wild place. The symmetry of my name and current position almost made laugh. As night befell in my new home, the forest seemed to open up new senses within me as it to welcome its new resident. A fresh breeze rose and the rustling of leaves created a melodic symphony that put me to sleep in an instant.


	9. Hunter, Prey

For over a week, I had settled into a pattern of exploring the forest and probing the city walls for weaknesses. I would set out in the early mornings just before the first light to the lake so that I would appear as an early worshipper to any eyes on the wall. It was a simple matter to reverse the technique, returning to my new home just after dusk had fallen, reducing the visibility for the watchers on the wall. So far, I had no concrete plans for being presented before the court or the king. Rudra’s letter had only gained me entrance through the first wall. Any further entry would require a sudden downpour of gold from the heavens or if the royal court itself invited me. Both possibilities seemed remote. Neel’s early explanation of the task before me had appeared possible to the optimistic Meru but was far more frustratingly impossible in the here and now. Each day, I would practice my begging for alms in the city streets and each day, I would be refused at the gates of the second wall. It was at the end of the first week that I would finally find a way in. Or rather, the way had found me.

It was the rustling of leaves that put me to sleep every night and it was the same that woke me up this morning. The first rays of sunlight were breaking through and the dew was still fresh on my face. It reminded me of the days when I lay as a mendicant beneath the banyan tree.

The nighttime melody of the forest was far more natural than the harsh thrashing that disturbed my peace today. It could only be created by a single type of two legged beast; humans. These sounds were different somehow, more rushed and inpatient than the usual human keepers of the wild that patrolled the forest. Any tracker or hunter worth his professional title would have never so much sounds to be heard hallway across the wild. Every deer and rabbit in a hundred yards had fled sensing danger. On the other hand, likely every tiger and other apex predators were homing in on their soon to be breakfast.

I had set up layers of as many dry leaves and twigs as possible on the routes to my small grove through the thickets. With the peculiar acoustics of this particular grove, even the most careful footstep would create a sound loud enough to reach my ears. So far, the sounds were loud but they were not from my warning system. I climbed down from my hammock and readied my staff and shield. With a suit of leaves I had sown together from my gatherings that I had fashioned over the last few days, I could maintain the appearance of a wavy bush rustling in the wind at a slow pace. Slowly making my way across a route I had marked safe from any traps, I set out towards the creature making this racket.

I came to a ridge overlooking a gorge with a small stream that was a favored drinking hole of some of the deer herds here. Like the fruit orchard, this made it a favored spot as well for the king’s hunters to trap deer here to draw out tigers. I peeked over the rise and saw a far more dangerous herd of predators.

A man in shiny robes was running through the river trying to escape from five other armed men, who approached slowly, convinced of their quarry’s helplessness. The runner appeared to be rich for the gold around his neck alone would have fed a hostel full of monks for a year. The others were likely royal soldiers, for they were dressed in the livery of Magadhan army. Light infantry troops, by their looks, they were dressed like Rudra in vests and gauntlets of tanned leather and breaches of dyed cotton. Two of them were armed with swords while another two had knocked their bows with deadly arrows. The last one, was different, likely their officer. He was tall but lithe with a black metal armor that looked like fish scales. His turban was marked with a gold seal and a sash around his waist held twin blades that glittered in the sunlight. No doubt, he was an officer and a high ranking one at that. His face was marred with scars denoting his battle experience.

“Your little exercise is over, King. Please return with us at once. You need to be seen by a physician”, said the officer in a curt no-nonsense tone.

The runner lay back over a rock, drenched in sweat and the river washed over his legs, running red. He had likely injured his leg in one of the more nasty surprises hidden in the ground. A claw like mechanism that could tear through flesh and grab hold of a limb, it was a dangerous trap that I had taken particular care to avoid. A single bite of it could rupture a blood vessel in a human leg, making one bleed to death in minutes. This was likely what happened to this poor man, based on the amount of blood flowing from his ankle. Yet, he pleaded with them to let him go.

“Please..please, let me go. I will give you anything. Anything! Jewels, gold, kingdoms! Ask me of anything but please…let me go!”, he begged them.

A chilling sensation ran down my spine. If something could terrify a Kshatriya king to risk a slow painful death in the wilderness over medical attention, it was terrifying enough for me to avoid.

The four men sheathed their arms and started looking for branches to create a makeshift stretcher while the officer looked to the king’s wounds.

“You should not have done that, king. If anything happens to you, my men and I will pay for it. Jarasandha will not spare our wives, our children, our _entire_ villages. I have no choice and you know that”, he replied, “Now lay back. I need to bind your leg to stem the wound.”

The man clearly knew his way around battlefield medicine for he expertly used one of his sword sashes to create a knot around the knee. Then, he lifted his patient clear off and laid him on the stretcher made of the soldiers’ spears, arrows and vines.

I could guess the identity of the escapee but this recent encounter with the king’s justice gave my quest to see him a new perspective. If Jarasandha could be cruel enough to burn entire villages to the ground for failure, what would he do to a poor imposter monk infiltrating his court to suddenly meet him?

My introspection was broken when a low growl came from the opposite end of the gorge. I looked across from me and a striped shape appeared from the thicket overlooking it’s prey. It was soon joined by another tiger from the other end of the gorge. I had to admit, these beasts were clever. They had effectively boxed in their quarry, knowing the sides of the gorge were too slippery to climb. The officer shouted and the five formed a circle around the wounded king, unsheathing their swords.

I had enough experience trapping tigers to know that swords were distinctly useless against a creature that could split a human skull with a single swipe of its claws. Their spears and arrows were used up in making the king’s stretcher and the men frantically looked to their leader for orders as the tigers circled their food. On occasion, one would test its prey with a quick swipe only to be answered by a jab from sharp steel. Alone, the soldiers may have stood a chance but with a bleeding high priority prisoner too injured to run, their options were limited to say the least.

As I lay there watching the fight unfold, the officer did the strangest thing. He turned his eyes in my direction and stared at me right in the face. I had been sure to remain careful in my camouflaged cover but the man’s eyes bore for too long for it to be a coincidence. He had noticed my presence. And now he looked to me, as if to question me: Will you help us?

I could have decided to return to my grove in that moment. Heroic lives usually meant short lives in my experience. No one would know of what I had done or in this case, not done. And what was I going to do by helping these men? End up as the midday meal of a tiger while trying to help a tyrant king’s soldiers return a captive to a miserable life?

But in the instant, the man took his eyes away to defend against a tiger’s claw, I saw something I had never seen before. _Disgust_. Shame on a fellow human being for abandoning another in need. Regret over expecting help from a stranger but a fellow man against a creature of the wild.

I could have stomached many things but cowardice was not one of them. Rudra would have sworn at me for my idiocy but some things were more important, like my honor as a soldier. I decided to help these men but I knew that this situation did not need heroics, they need a scout’s ingenuity.

I rose from my cover and immediately yelled at one of the tigers. Both of them saw the new prey that had no sharp claws of its own and I suddenly became their lunch priority to follow. I ran up to a tree and climbed its branches just in time to avoid a swipe from one of the tiger’s claws. As I jumped higher to avoid the big cat, I brought out one of the emergency weapons that a scout always carried with him. I threw a satchel of crushed millipedes at the closest tiger’s face, hitting it straight in the snout. Millipedes were dangerous insects to handle with bare hands but with care, they could be crushed to secrete a very noxious and irritating liquid. Collect a few of them and together, they made a particularly nasty and blinding bundle of pain. The big cat ran around haphazardly dunking its snout in the running water, trying to wash of the spray of insects while the other suddenly looked up to me with new hatred and roared.

I had the higher ground but that advantage would shortly disappear. Tigers were good climbers in this terrain and I needed the long reach of a spear. I brought mine out just in time to dissuade the other tiger’s attempts to climb with a sharp poke in its eyes. It fell and started circling the base, waiting for another chance to climb or worse, knock me loose. What I needed was for the cat to remain in one position just long enough for me to strike.

I looked to the other men and gasped as the four soldiers carried the king to higher ground while unwinding their spears. It was a good idea but it would take too long. As I stood on that frail tree branch, counting the seconds and trying to aim for the cat’s head, a sword flew out of nowhere and impaled itself on one of the tiger’s flanks. The officer stood there, bellowing at the tiger to face him while he gave me the signal. It seemed he had understood my need and was acting as bait to give me the chance. The tiger had decided to seek out its older prey now that it had one fewer claw of its own. As it turned to face him, I firmly grasped the spear and jumped, landing on it’s neck with the full force of my body behind the impaling hit. The tiger struggled but the strike had been precisely at the base of its neck. It could no longer move but the huge creature’s bulk fell on me crushing one of my legs. I tried dislodging my spear from the tiger’s head while simultaneously trying to free my leg but I noticed why it was being so difficult.

The officer had run up to me and pressed his leg against the tiger, leaning forward and putting his full force on restraining me beneath the cat’s carcass. He used one of his hands to free his sword while the other rested on my neck.

“Who are you?”, he asked.

If only I had the answer to _that_ question, I would not be here, I thought dryly. I raised my hands to show I was no threat.

“I am a monk, sir. I was here meditating when I heard your men. Please, sir, have mercy on a poor monk. I have done no harm to you. I helped you!”, I put on my practiced visage of monkhood.

The officer smiled in a crooked way as he examined the spear jutting out from the tiger’s neck, “A poor monk, eh? Not many monks in these parts. Everyone in the city knows that these are king’s forests; offlimits to _every_ body else. You handled yourself well for a monk too. Quite a weapon, I see”

I cursed myself for trying to help this man. My story was meant for when I had a monk’s attire, not when I was seen as a spear wielding wild man taking on two tigers!

“I..I uh, I carry that staff to keep away the wild animals, sir. Please sir, I am new here to the city. I just like the forests better than cities for my meditation” I was beginning to stammer as I frantically looked around for something, anything to give me an edge over my interrogator.

At the same time, two of his men came running over and he directed his attention to them without lifting his swords away from my neck. “Is he safe? Will he make it back to the city?”

One of the swordsmen answered with a mournful nod, “I doubt it, general. He is losing too much blood. The others are trying to stabilize the bleeding with pressure but if we return the way we came, we are bound to run into more traps. It will take too long.”

 _General?!_ This man was one of _Jarasandha’s_ generals?!

My head was swimming with possibilities when the general himself turned to me, “You! You live here, do you not? Do you know a quick way out of this forest around those traps?”

I nodded with agreement but held up a hand. I had the advantage now and it had to be used just right.

“I can show you the way out, general, but this poor monk needs some reassurance.”

The man answered in an irritated tone that reminded me of Rudra and spoke to me with a hard glare, “Let me guess. You want amnesty for hiding out in the king’s forest, don’t you? Well, I can’t promise that but I can promise you a fair trial. If our man lives, I swear you will live long enough to tell the king your side of the truth. If not, well, your life will not be in my hands anyway but I will make sure you burn with us if it is the last thing I do on this earth! Do you understand me?”

I would have felt almost at home listening to this other version of Rudra if my life had not hung in the balance. The man certainly knew how to deliver a threat. He had turned my advantage into his own and now, _I_ was on the hook for their captive’s life.

I affirmed to his demands with a nod but instead of releasing me, he gave the order to have me checked while I was still bound under the heavy burden. His soldiers checked every fold of my robe, even reaching into my modest areas, relieving me of some of the tricks similar to the ones I had used earlier. He yanked loose my spear and took it in his own custody before lifting the tiger and helping me up. Then, with my own spear at my back, he ordered me ahead of the formation while he and his men brought up the rear with their captive in tow.

“Keep a steady pace and we will follow. No tricks!” and I was nudged to lead the way.

My mind was overrun with thoughts of escape. The question was how? No doubt, there were more men waiting at the edge of the forest. No general ever travelled without a retinue of at least 50 men. Then, there was the immediate question of my own spear held at my back, ready to skewer me should I hasten my pace. The path to the forest’s edge was known to me by second nature now so it freed my mind to create a diversion. Any plan, however, came to a standstill when the forest edge came into sight and the general’s remaining soldiers materialized to create a perimeter around us. The oldest among them, who was likely in his 40s given his looks, came forward and saluted. He had no gold seals but the way the rest of the men gave way to him likely made him a lower ranked but veteran soldier prized for his experience.

“Sir, we searched for the escaped kings. Two of them were caught but King Trigat-“, he stopped short when he saw the escaped king behind us.

The general held up the explanation and immediately barked his orders, “We have His Majesty, sergeant. He is seriously wounded. Find a horse cart and take him to the court physicians immediately. Tell them he has suffered a puncture wound to his left leg, likely opening up a major blood vessel. We have stopped the bleeding temporarily but be careful when moving him. No sharp turns or sudden jerks."

The captive king, Trigat, was sweating and barely conscious enough to protest, much less bribe his overseers. I would have felt pity for the man had he also not been an indirect cause of my current predicament.

I could feel the spear’s point lifting off my back and turned to find the two pieces disassembled and bound to the general’s back.

_How did this man solve the spear’s mechanism?_

“Oh, and as for you, stranger. I am sure we can find a nice big room in the palace for you to spend your time praying for that man’s health while you await your judgment.” With that, he gave a nod to the sergeant. Before I could react, a punch landed on my face, knocking me unconscious.


	10. The Visitor

“So _you’re_ what everyone is talking about these days?”

I woke up with a terrible headache, worse than those usually brought on by the Presence. My body ached with stiffness and I wondered how long I had been unconscious. Whoever had said the words, the sound emanated from ahead but I could not see anything.

A panic ran through my body. _Had I gone blind?_

I felt my surroundings, the hard stone beneath me with the cold air around me. I ran my fingers along the floor to get an idea of where I was before I hit my head on a metal grate. The iron rang with a faint sound and I had a sudden dread of where I was.

_A cell? I was in a dungeon?_

Looking up, a faint light hovered far above me, too far to be of any use to my eyes, but reassuring that I had not lost my sight.

“Oh, calm your little mind, child. You are not blinded but from where I sit, your eyes are the last thing you should be worried about”, the voice continued.

“Who are you? Where am I? What is this place?”, I asked.

“One question at a time, child. My name is not important. As to _where_ you are, I think you already know that” he responded with a chuckle. I could feel the mischief behind this mocking tone.

Jarasandha’s dungeons. I was in the same place where that accursed king had escaped from. Rudra’s lessons had warned me of this. I had been caught and worse, captured for doing a heroic deed. How stupid had I been?

It was time to stick to his lessons from here on. If captured, first thing to do is make sense of your surroundings for surveillance. I looked around and doubted anyone could see anything in this darkness.

Next step, inspect yourself for wounds. I patted myself for any tender points but could feel none (apart from my face where the punch had landed). At least my captors had been kind enough in that regard.

Third step, do an inventory of your person. Anything, even the smallest object, could literally be the key to escaping. I had not felt anything on my person previously and I knew those soldiers had taken all my possessions when I was stuck beneath that tiger.

A breeze blew in from above bringing cold air to my nostrils and forcing me to huddle myself towards the wall. The stone around me was barely warm enough to fight off the cold from the sky above. I had heard tale of the old rivers that flowed below the capitol. Perhaps the dungeons were built around these rivers to keep their captives from freezing to death.

The voice came again, “Dreary, aren’t they? You humans are quite resilient and yet, I have never seen your fascination with finding new ways to kill each other.”

Something did not click. Was this man suggesting he was not human? I doubted if Jarasandha would stoop so low as to ally himself with rakshasas. He had heard tales of kings allying with rakshasa demons before. Even the gods had allied with the asuras during the churning of the Great Ocean to bring forth their immortal elixir.

“ _Humans?_ Are you not human yourself, voice?”, I carefully asked, for I did not want to anger this thing into an early appetitie.

The voice laughed, “Oh, I partly am. My parents were mortal.  Those were the good days, eons ago. Now, it is so tiring keeping track of you mortals. Though lately, your ilk has been most interesting. So much drama. So much potential. Such fun!”

 _Mortals?_ I wondered what kind of immortal inhuman thing was waiting for me out there. Maybe the iron grates were not to keep me _in_ the dungeon but to keep something _out_. Some kind of security measure, perhaps, after the latest breakout of the captive kings.

“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little brain, Ruksh. I will not harm you. I have it on very good authority that you will come out of this particular situation without significant damage.”

 _Significant_? I would have preferred none at all.

“You mean the king has granted me amnesty? King Trigat survived?”, I was hopeful that my good deed would truly remain unpunished.

The voice laughed again, “I answer to a far higher authority than that fool who thinks he can please Great Shiva with human heads. The foolish notions you mortals come up with are truly astounding even to the likes of me.”

Higher authority? Who _was_ this thing?

“What do you want from me, strange being?”, I asked carefully.

“What makes you think I want something from you, mortal? I am here because I thought you might want the company. Am I keeping you from some urgent business? A meeting with your lover, perhaps?” the voice responded with a sharp tone.

I may have overstepped my bounds, I thought, as I realized that this strange voice was right. Rudra had stressed again and again that capture was a terrible fate for a soldier. To a prisoner, isolation was the main reason behind losing the will and hope to survive captivity. Whatever this being was, I should have been more thankful for the company.

“Thank you for the company, um….sir?”, I guessed the voice sounded male.

“You are most welcome, child. Now, there, was it really that difficult to be civil?” I could imagine the being smiling from the return to that mischievous tone in its voice.

I tried to stretch the conversation, if only to learn more about this cell, “Forgive me, sir. But the last time I was civil, I ended up here in a dungeon for my pains.”

The creature laughed again, “Would you rather have abandoned those men to the lions? Is that what a former rathi would do?”

 _How did it know that I was a rathi?_ I had told no one of my wound or its secret apart from those I had left behind in the village. Then, I figured that an intangible voice that knew everything about me could be a part of me. Maybe I was going insane from captivity or this was some new trick from the Presence. Whatever the case was, it was time to find out the reality.

“Are you real, voice? Or am I going insane? Please…I need to know”, I was almost begging but I had a lot of practice over the last few weeks for it disturb my pride.

The voice responded kindly, “Insanity is defined by how sane a person is in the first place. Would it matter if appeared to you in some physical form? Could I still not be a part of your imagination? Anyway, if you really want some proof, you will have to trust my word when I say you will come out of this debacle intact.”

I suppose I did not have any other choice but to trust this voice, “I know your name is not important, sir, but can you atleast show me who you are. It is…odd to speak to a voice in the dark.”

“Very well, if you insist”, it replied almost immediately.

A bright light flashed before my eyes and pain shot through them. Having been in the dark so long, my eyes could not adjust to this sudden brightness. All that was left was a burning flame in a sconce on the wall. The surrounding walls, even the floor, was granite as if the dungeon had been carved out of the mountain itself under the capitol. The iron grates were only the first obstacles as a low wooden door blocked the way outside. As my eyes turned to another corner, my heart froze.

Leaning against a wall, in my own monk robes, stood _me_ with a mischievous grin. Or atleast a much healthier copy of me.

He laughed, “I told you who I am is not important.”

I stammered for my voice was lost to a lump in my throat. The man, or whatever this imposter was, raised his hands in a reassuring manner.

“Calm yourself, Ruksh. I am merely jesting. In reality, beings like me cannot appear before mortals in our true form. It is too much for your immature minds to comprehend. Why, the last time, I visited one of your music festivals, some artist took one look at me and from then on, they show me with a veena and cymbals. Can you imagine carrying those around your neck all the time?”

The being ranted on but I felt like the butt of a cosmic joke. Maybe this was the annoying form of torture those kings had tried to escape from.

I tried to focus on what “I” was saying. He had given me a clue.

_Cymbals, veena, watching over mortals?_

I remembered tales of two heavenly messengers who carried cymbals and veena to sing glories of the Lord Vishnu. It would be strangest of times to meet any of them but I took a risk.

“Sage Narada?”

The man looked amused, “Of course, you would guess his name. Well, our tasks do overlap but no, I am Tumburu, servant to Lord Shiva. You have been a topic of interest in the heavenly circles, child. I just _had_ to come by and see what all the fuss was about.”

Tumburu, I ransacked my brain to recall the name, when I remembered it being mentioned by Rudra to a new batch of recruits. “This is not Lord Tumburu’s school. This is _my_ barracks and here, there will be NO dancing or music!”

Tumburu, the great Gandharva son of Sage Kashyapa and Pradha, student to Sage Narada, chief among Lord Indra’s heavenly musicians was standing in my cell talking to me. I had to be dreaming although I imagined my dreams would never be _this_ odd.

“No, you are not dreaming” he answered dryly as if reading my very thoughts. Maybe I was going insane.

I also remembered that gandharvas had exceptional powers so it was best to speak very carefully.

“Lord Tumburu, it is an honor. I don’t suppose I could trouble you for helping me get out of here."

The gandharva smiled and nodded in refusal, “No, child. I cannot interfere in the affairs of the mortals. Despite what you mortals may blame us for, your misfortunes are consequences of your own actions. Not divine intervention.”

 “How can I serve you, Lord Tumburu?”. If I could not receive any help from Him, I figured there had be something I could offer him despite his earlier rebuff.

“Oh, just keep doing what you are good at. I am an artist at my core, you see. And a good artist needs inspiration from the world. Heroes may lead short lives but they serve as a great examples for humanity, even for those of us in the immortal realms. It is my duty to seek out and inspire these morals in humans, if only for the great ballads the heroics will create.”

It sounded more like I was the favorite flavor of the day for heavenly gossip.

A clutter rang outside the door and I could hear the door’s lock being opened. Someone was coming and before I could speak further, the gandharva vanished with a smile.

Only an echo remained, “Remember, be true to yourself, young one!”

A man stepped forth from the door in a blinding light which flooded the cell. The previous pain from the sudden exposure to light returned. I shielded my eyes but powerful arms grabbed me and shoved me upright.

It took a few moments before I could see fully again and the man who stood before me registered. It was none other than the general who had sent me here in the first place.

“Come, it is time for you to meet the king!”


	11. The King

“You do not have to chain me, sir. I am not going to run”

A grunt escaped my lips as I was pushed along the catacombs up a never ending series of stairs. Two soldiers were in front of me while two were at back. The iron chains were heavy, forcing me to slow my pace but the spear points held at my back would not tolerate it.

“Keep up the pace. The king does not like to be kept waiting.” It was the only answer my captors would give me.

The general was at the forefront of our little procession. It was the first time I had seen him out of his battle uniform and the difference was quite striking. He was a short man but wide in his frame with a darkened complexion that only came with spending days in the field, not just with birth. His arms bore scars that were fresh and some that had all but faded. This man was a hardened veteran of a hundred battles and the weight of all the years of service seemed to weigh him down. He took no pleasure in giving the order to have me bound and the weariness of doing such actions seemed clear on his face. He was a hard man who seemed to have tired of carrying heavy burdens but who would not hesitate to kill me on the spot if I made any attempt to deviate from his orders.

The most curious thing though was an odd pouch that hung from his neck. Most men, especially of his stature, would have decked themselves in gold or silver. With his experience, battle honors should have covered the finery on this man. The simplicity of the man’s attire was striking especially when I saw what the rest of the court was like.

We climbed for what was another hour, with the halls getting wider and more opulent. The hustle and bustle of courtiers and servants became ever more but the general’s presence acted like a boat cutting through a river with ease. The sea of people parted out of respect for the general and partly, I suspected, out of a wariness of me. It was not every day that a criminal was brought before the king himself for justice.

Meru’s words rang through my head as I prepared for this encounter. Lord Tumburu had promised me that I would stay alive at the end of this day but how, that was a different question altogether. I did not want to lose an arm like a thief would, even though I was sure that fit the oddly crafted divine promise as well. Instead, Meru had told me to tell the truth to the king. It was beyond me how any sane king would deal with an imposter monk warrior who had purposely avoided his call to arms and trespassed into his own hunting grounds to meet him by planning to infiltrate his capitol. But the gandharva had warned me as well to stay true to my nature. Whatever their intent, two wise beings had told me to speak the bitter truth to a brutal king who would probably hack off my head for sword practice.

As we neared a giant gate, I noticed it was exquisitely crafted with gold leaf. Apsaras intricately carved into a bas relief into the golden metal itself. The gate was guarded by five giants of men who I supposed had been chosen for this duty exclusively for their freakishly large frames.

It was a clear message with all the subtlety of a hammer; beauty and prosperity defended by brutal strength. The general stopped just short of the gate guard and turned around to face me.

“You will now see the king. You will address him as Your Majesty or Your Highness. Maintain your position and do not go within 20 paces of the throne. Any deviations and you will shot with 50 arrows before you even get within 19 paces. Answer exactly what is asked of you. Do you understand?”

His hard glance was met with only an affirmative nod from me. I was otherwise busy figuring how to explain the last few weeks of my life without becoming a permanent guest of the dungeons.

The chamberlain ahead of us gave us the assurance to move ahead while the gate guard parted to open the gates. The royal court was nothing like I had ever imagined. If the outer opulence of the palace was any indication, I had expected a grand hall with even more obscene wealth. What I walked into was anything but opulent.

The court was a massive circular hall with a two layers of balconies that tapered at the opposite edge where a throne stood. Men and women lined along the walls in queues until met by more than a dozen smaller seats at the foot of the throne. A few step led up to the great throne that was carved out of black stone, with two attendants fanning the area from behind. The hall had been carved from the mountain itself with the city build around it. Light shone in from above and I looked up to see chutes where light poured in and was redirected around the hall via polished metal plates. An ingenious mechanism, it allowed the court to enjoy protection from rain with simultaneous natural illumination and ventilation.

As we walked ahead, the hall fell silent and the clamor of my bindings rang aloud. Eyes bored at me from every direction, wondering and judging my every move. The ministers of the king sat in a dozen small seats at the foot of the throne in a semicircular pattern along the hall’s curve. And on the throne, sat the king- Jarasandha.

There were many stories said of the king and if they were to be believed, he was a giant of a man who demonic eyes could breathe fire and crush mountains with his bare hands. What sat before me was vastly different. The king was a short man with a powerfully built frame. He had a short cropped beard with graying edges and eyes that looked quite human, even though they were focused on me intently. His attire was a simple white robe, revealing his heavyset build at the arms, and a golden circlet and necklace. A massive mace sat at his foot with its pommel resting by his left hand. I had scoffed when I had heard tales of king’s strength but seeing the mace and estimating the strength it would take to wield it, I could imagine some of them to be true. I suppose any king as powerful as this would not have to wear gaudy jewels just to advertise that I was the man in-charge.

I was so busy admiring the mace that I ran face first into the general’s back who I had not realized had halted in front of crossed spears. The twenty pace mark had apparently been reached and the king raised his hand for us to be presented. The general bowed and the spear at my back pinched, indicating for me to follow his lead. The chamberlain beside the king boomed, reading from a scroll.

“This culprit is accused of posing as a Brahmin monk, trespassing and illegal foraging in the royal hunting grounds and evasion of the military summons for all able bodied personnel.”

The list seemed to go on and on while the king kept his eyes fixated on me. At first, he did not speak but then, slowly, bade his chamberlain to cease giving way to his own.

“Who are you, boy? What is your name?”

 _Why did everyone ask me that question?,_ I thought but I remembered Meru’s words and decided to stick to them. After all, I did not have any other recourse after my stunt in the forest.

“I am known as Ruksh, my king. I hail from a village in Vanga”, I answered.

The king raised an eyebrow in surprise, which I had come to expect from most people by now, upon hearing my given name. Even kings were not immune to humor, I suppose.

“It cannot be. No, you rather look like _him_ …but it cannot be. He died…I was there.”

Clearly, the court was not used to seeing its ruler astounded for I could see courtiers murmuring amongst themselves. A throat sound from the chamberlain brought the king out of his reverie and quieted the court. Even more so, _I_ wanted to know who I reminded the king of. Before I could speak, the chamberlain interrupted.

“If His Majesty may be pleased, may I continue the judicial session, my king?”

The king nodded but had one of his attendants summoned to give him a missive. It must have been important for the wide-eyed attendant looked to me and ran off with a quick bow to the king.

The chamberlain continued, “The list of charges has been read. Does the accused have anything to say in his defense?”

It was then that I was realized that I was being asked to speak. My tongue seemed to give away and I suddenly found myself mute. Meru’s words still rang in my mind and I held up a hand for a moment’s time to gather my thoughts. Then, another voice boomed in the hall.

“If His Majesty allows it, I shall speak in this boy’s defense, my king.”

The general stepped forward and the court looked to him in a peculiar manner. While most the people in the hallways had treated this man with respect, here in the court, there was a mix of distaste and shock on the faces. Apparently, it was not usual for this man to speak up here.

“You, old friend? You would speak for this common criminal? Why? After all, you were the one to lay the accusations in the first place”, asked Jarashanda with a hint of a smile.

So this man, whom I had risked my own life to save, had been the one to drag me in front of the king like this. And now, he was asking to defend me? The irony did not sit well with me.

“Forgive me, Your Highness, but I ask to speak for myself. I saved the lives of him and his men, in turn, receiving being incarcerated in your prison for a petty crime”, I interjected. The general looked to me with a furrowed brow but acquiesced, returning to his spot and inviting me to speak.

The chamberlain looked to me furiously, “It is because of _this_ man that you have been allowed to see the king at all. You would dare to challenge the honor of the king’s general?”

I continued, “No, sir, I would like to take up responsibility for my own fate as the King Himself inspires us to. Do I not have the right to do so, my king?”

I silently thanked Meru for his diatribes on the king’s judicial system and his personality. A thought had occurred to me that _this_ was as good as any chance for me to present my case before the king – the very purpose for which I had come to Magadha.

The king looked at us like an adult watching bickering children with amusement, “You do have the right, boy. But do _not_ presume to insult my friend ever again. _He_ may tolerate fools but _I_ do not”

I nodded and gulped for I had barely crossed the boundary of insulting one of the king’s officers and friends of being ungracious. Indirectly, that meant the king himself was being accused of the same in his own court. The fact that the general had stayed silent meant he had stomached the accusation instead of challenging me. Maybe this man was not a complete ingrate.

“My king, I am Ruksh of Vanga, who came here to seek your protection on the behest of my master. Inspired by your greatness, two priests found me as a wild man, fed and clothed me, training me to survive and feed myself in the wilderness. They taught me to better serve those around me in the same way Magadha protects Vanga and many more like it. But in my poverty of stature or fortune, I could not meet one as glorious as you, my king. Forgive me for taking shelter in your forest, for it is the only place I knew of to sustain me and my pride. I was instructed by my master in the use of a spear to defend myself and to seek out the great minds of the royal court of Magadha for answers to my damaged past.”

I took a breath, and it seemed that the king along with the court took one with me. I was either a really good storyteller or the oddest man to be presented before the king.

The chamberlain motioned for me to continue.

“My king, I could stand before you and speak of my shame in trespassing in your forest. I could cry and beg for your mercy in evading your call to arms. I could even apologize to the holy men here whose order I pretended to belong to. But I will not, my king, if only to preserve the pride of Magadha.”

The king raised an arm to quell the surge of protests that rose from all the courtiers, demanding to have me beheaded on the spot.

I decided to keep pressing the momentum while I still had the ear of the king and my own head was still attached to my body.

“Hear me, O Great King, for I speak of the pride of a Kshatriya that bids him to eternally strive and fight for his rights, to never depend on others for sustenance but to _be_ the support of the weak, and finally, to do whatever he must to obtain his objectives. I followed the example laid out by Your Majesty, to do what I must to not depend on charity but to earn what I had to eat. Like yourself, I have treated the forests and the holy men of this kingdom with the utmost respect. I have never defiled the forests beyond taking only what I needed. I have always respected the code of the mendicant and never begged where I did not need to, nor stolen what rightfully belonged to another. I came to your city to merely seek an audience and help from your healers for whatever had damaged me, on the instructions of my master. To do that, I did what I thought fit to reach my objective.”

The court sat stunned, listening to my diatribe. Finally, the general spoke up, “My King, I would like to submit a letter of introduction found in his dwelling in the forest. It is written by someone familiar to you.” He handed the wooden cylinder to the chamberlain while I stood wondering how they had discovered my secret cache in the grove.

The chamberlain broke the letter's seal, read it aloud until reaching the end where his words stumbled. He slowly turned to the king, flustered.

“My king, this…this letter has another signature, of Meru of Vanga, son of Krans, former Minister of Mathura.”


	12. The Loyal Men

A select few of the king’s ministers shared worried glances while the king suddenly rose with his war-hammer in hand. I mentally prepared myself for what would undoubtedly be a brutal hit but the chamberlain boomed.

“This matter will be heard for more discussion in the private court. The judgment is postponed until then.”

I could feel the chains yanking me back but for the moment, I was relieved that the hammer had not fallen immediately on my head. My own eloquence had surprised me and the court’s eyes bored into me, wondering how such defiance could be allowed to escape.

What concerned me even more was Meru’s title and the effect it had on the king and his ministers. Who _was_ that man? Moreover, why was he being called a former Minister of Mathura? The questions did not seem to end as I was dragged back out of the court by my escort. I trudged along absent mindedly until I noticed the route was not the same as I had previously taken. We were going to a different wing of the palace. The corridors here were bare and relatively isolated as rows of simple wooden rooms appeared along the hallway, resembling a dormitory. Occasionally, soldiers and courtiers would pass, saluting and resuming their patrols. The security here appeared to be tighter than even the prison.

We stopped before a room flanked by two guards. The general nodded to the guard and the shackles soon came off me. Forming a double line, my guardians bowed and left, leaving the general and me in a bare empty corridor. He opened the door for me and waved me in.

I stepped into a room similar to my prison cell but with a window. The only other addition was a cot and a simple one at that. It may have been nothing to some, but to my aching back which had suffered over the hard prison floor, it was the greatest of luxuries. The walls were whitewashed and bare but the atmosphere of the place itself was clean, almost as if purified.

My wrists still itched from the superficial bruises rent by the iron fetters. I furiously scratched them while taking in the room itself. It was bigger than the last one.

“You can stay here until the king decides to hear you again. This is a dormitory for visiting guests. I trust you will not run away from here.”

The general’s voice brought me back. Anger rose within me as I turned to face the man who had had me thrown into a prison cell for helping him.

“You think this makes up for what you did to me? My life still hangs in the balance thanks to you!”, a low growl escaped me with the words.

The general walked across the room and checked the iron bars on the window for their strength. He nudged them to make sure they were not loose.

“Think what you want, boy. I promised you a fair trial in front of the king. That is what you got.”

“And what will the king do to me, general?”, I asked in return.

“Honestly, I do not know. Meru’s favor does not bode well for you, Ruksh. Perhaps you should have told me what was written on that scroll before I submitted it to the king”, he replied with a steel glance, “I would say that you speak the truth. The king will dispense justice only based on the truth and he will find it out.”

Speak the truth? This was the third occasion when someone had recommended that to me. Perhaps fate was bent on making a mockery of me with my farce of a story. What bothered me even more was the truth of Meru.

“How _did_ Meru come to be in Vanga, general? I did not even know who he was. To me, he was a simple kind priest who took me in. How was I supposed to know that the enemy of your king was my benefactor?”, I asked in surprise.

“Oh, I think the king knows that too. The surprise on your face was obvious enough. For now, stay in this room. There are no guards outside but that does not mean you can violate the king’s trust. Do not mistake this courtesy for our weakness.”

The general moved to the door with his threat looming over me. I had to know about Meru though and I rushed to block the doorway.

“Tell me about Meru, general. You owe me that much. I know that the king granted him mercy once. What is the reason for his presence in Vanga? If something Meru did in the past is responsible for my current state, I want to know what it is.”

The general looked at me with a hard glance and suddenly, sat down on the cot starting with a question.

“What do you know of the bad blood between King Jarasandha and the Yadu clan?”

I tried to remember as much as I could. The Yadu clan was an ancient one with its King Ugrasena, their current chief. King Jarasandha had wed his two sisters to the son of King Ugrasena, Kansa, along with lending his army in a coup. Kansa had incarcerated his father along with his sister, killing her sons until Lord Krishna escaped. Lord Krishna returned to Mathura with his brother, Lord Balarama, to kill his uncle and restore the old king. Fearing Jarasandha’s retribution, the Yadus had been convinced to move to a new coastal city, Dwarka. Jarasandha had been too late in catching them and in his anger, had razed the empty Mathura to the ground. I relayed as much to my companion who nodded.

“Yes, that is the gist of it. King Jarasandha was too stubborn in his rage over his sisters being widowed. His repeated losses despite being rebuffed again and again by Lord Krishna and the Yadus finally convinced them to move lest the cycle of war continue. But Mathura was not empty when we got there.”

I raised my eyes in surprise. That was not what the storyteller Meru had told me. I listened with rapt attention to the general’s version of events.

“Aye, I remember those days. I was there, commanding one of the king’s legions. I fought the likes of Satyaki and Kritavarma. Our battles were like oceans colliding against rocks. Both were stubborn in their own rights. I saw the two sons of Vasudeva mowing down my men like grass with their chakra and mace. Blood flowed like rivers whenever we clashed. So much death. So many sons, brothers and fathers lost…on both sides."

Almost instinctly, the man grasped the pouch around his neck. His words continued as he held on to it more tightly, "The king’s army was vast but the Yadus were tenacious. They knew they could not sustain such a prolonged conflict against such superior numbers even with the likes of Lords Krishna and Balarama on their side. They escaped while we licked our wounds and prepared. When we got there, all we found were empty huts and bare cowsheds. All had been evacuated. All…except three.”

Three?! Meru had failed to mention any such occurrence.

“Three men remained behind. Or rather, they were _left_ behind. Meru, Rudra and Kashik. Three men assigned by King Jarasandha to be part of Kansa’s court when he helped him in his coup. A minister, a general and a spy. The first to help run the kingdom, the second to train his armies and the third to keep an eye on his new brother-in-law’s court.”

It finally made sense why Rudra had a general’s demeanor. The old man was an actual general. And the old priest was a court minister. His skills and royal connections became much more apparent in an instant. The general, on the other hand, chuckled with a smile dripping with distaste.

“Jarasandha was furious, of course. Obviously, the three men had been left behind since the Yadus did not trust them. The king’s court, including myself, did not trust them either for they had not returned after Kansa’s demise. They had remained with King Ugrasena, advising him and training his army. When we found them, Meru and Rudra did not plead. They argued that they were performing the duties entrusted to them by their king; to look after Mathura. Hah, I can still remember those two old men standing tall before the king saying they will never forsake Mathura as long as they had their king’s orders. Jarasandha was moved and that does not happen often. He pardoned them but he could never trust them again. They were too....contaminated to be kept close to his court. They were also too publicly loyal to be executed. After all, they had sworn that they would look after Mathura, not following the rest of the Yadus to Dwarka, or so they said. So he exiled them to Vanga, where they could not create any trouble for him”

I remembered the ways of those two, always so sure of themselves and knowledgeable of the king and his court. It was small wonder that the village held them in such high regard. Between those two, they could run an entire kingdom. Something was amiss, however.

“What happened to the third man, general? Kashik?”

The general laughed, “Hah! The spymaster? Kashik was executed on the spot. _He_ had failed in his duties. Kansa had been failing repeatedly in his attempts to kill Lord Krishna in his child state. The Yadus had built an entire city and planned an entire exodus under his nose and that sniveling coward could not even inform us of that on time. The Yadus were manipulating him from the very beginning, feeding him misinformation to mislead us. Even Meru’s and Rudra’s reports were intercepted before they reached his ears. The king had no use for such foolish spies.”

I could tell the general, like Rudra, placed no faith in spies. Many generals relied on scouts instead because of their incorruptibility and being reliable first hand sources of information.

“So where does that leave me, general? Meru and Rudra’s history with Magadha are…complicated. And yet, they are the ones who have vouched for me.”

The general rubbed his beard while he thought. It reminded me of Meru in one of his states of deep contemplation.

“Where it leaves you is in a far more comfortable room than your previous accommodations for at least one night. Be thankful for that! And just so you know, I too vouched for you. I have not forgotten the blood debt of my men and my life, young one. Whatever fate may bring, I will stand with you…so long as you speak the truth.”

“And what if I lie, general? Will that wash away the blood debt you owe me?”, I asked sharply.

The general sighed and he looked to me with a drooped gaze, “No, then I will kill you myself. Right before they kill me, Meru and Rudra for presenting a liar before the king’s court.”

With that fair bit of news, the door closed, and the last sight I saw for the night was the back of a man whose life was now tied to my own.


	13. Moral Support

The comforts of the room were short lived. A knock awoke me soon after with a old man asking to inspect me. He was quite aged dressed in white robes and a turban along with a healer’s bag I had seen before.

A wooden bag, it could keep dozens of medicinal herbs and tools separately. The physician was let in by a guard who seemed to ignore the common courtesy of a prisoner’s right to privacy.

“We have orders for you to be checked. The medic here will examine your body. Keep your hands visible at all times. Now, disrobe!”, he barked and turned to the physician, “And you, sir. How many sharp objects do you have in your bag?”

The physician shrugged and presented the bag’s contents to the guard, who promptly started counting them. When he was satisfied that all the bag’s components had been checked, he continued, “Two guards will remain here. Make sure the prisoner keeps his hands to himself. When you are done, we will check the bag again. If anything is missing, you will be held responsible for supplying a prisoner with an escape tool. Do you understand?”

Meanwhile, I stood almost naked in front of four men who were now very interested in my body. Suffice it to say, all present except for the old man were sufficiently abashed to avoid making eye contact for long.

The old man started asking me questions similar to the ones Meru had asked me when I had first met him. He palpated me systematically in every area until he came across my wound on the back. Spending an inordinately long time poking at it, he returned my robes to me.

“How does it feel when I touch that area?”, he asked pointedly.

I replied with the same answer I had given Meru, “Like someone is poking inside my head with a cool hand”

The old man gathered his instruments while I continued asking, “Have you seen anything like this before?”

Chuckling, he replied, “Old I may be, young man, but men like me do not see astral wounds very often. It is no ordinary wound, which is clear. The striations in the skin have not even begun to heal. As if something is keeping the wound open. I am but a simple healer. I can fix what I can see, hear, smell or touch. But this…this magic is something beyond me. I told Meru as much when he sent me the letter describing your injury.”

I realized this was the healer with whom Meru had consulted about my condition. Before I could ask more, he turned to the guards. They once again did an inventory of the physician’s bags and left me to my silent domicile.

There was only so much one could do in an empty cell. I had already counted the number of stones in the walls and the floor. It was some time before another knock brought some welcome respite from the cell’s isolation before it drove me mad.

The door opened to show a young priest in orange robes standing along with a retinue of four guards behind him. His face was covered, although he spoke in a hushed tone to the soldiers. They pushed him inside and closed the doors with a loud bang. The echoes still rung as the monk revealed his face to present the grinning face of Neel.

He rushed to meet his friend who still stood planted with surprise, “Neel? What are you doing here?”

The constantly anxious acolyte I had spent a year with in Vanga was now changed. His demeanor now exuded confidence in his posture alone. “I am here on the king’s orders. Meru told me how he made you leave. He and Rudra are still in exile by the king’s command. I was summoned here by a military courier to testify on your behalf a few days ago.”

A military courier? And that too with orders to convey a passenger across two kingdoms safely in a matter of days. I had an inkling that it had something to do with my benefactor; the general.

“How are you, Neel?”, I asked. I had noticed it before but the young monk’s robes were caked in mud. His eyes were sunken and his face gaunt. They were signs of the strict deprivation that Brahmins often undertook. He had likely not eaten or drunk anything for days. The rigors of such forced travel and marching had only worsened his condition.

“How am _I_? You are the one on trial here, Ruksh. The master sent word for you too – something about staying true. I could not get the whole gist of it since the courier was adamant we leave immediately for the capitol. They kept handing me off to fresh couriers and horses every half-day.”

“And you did not ask for rest? You fool, if only you could see yourself!”, I yelled at him.

Neel, however, kept calm and smiling, “You are to be presented before the king today in his private court. It was made very clear to us in Vanga that the travel would be without rest. I did get some sleep yesterday when they gave me a small mare to ride. She was very steady in her pace”

I bid him to rest on the cot before the guards would come to bring us to the king. A tired Neel was useless to me if he was asked to testify in such a state. While he napped, the slit in the door opened to pass a tray of food through. I had not stayed in the prison long to enjoy their prison rations, if there were any at all for prisoners here. But the tray before me may very well have been a feast after such a long time. I had practically forgotten the last time I had anything to eat ever since that day in the forest. Between my incarceration and the revelation of my benefactors, my hunger had taken a very low priority in my mind. It was probably due to the presence of Neel himself as a guest that I had received the food at all.

Despite his snoring, I woke up Neel to share in the meager food before me. The monk had ridden hard for my sake without rest or sustenance for days. It was the least I could do to share in some half-cooked rice and watery lentil soup.

We wolfed down the dahl and rice without a word, such was the appetite pent up within us. Neel, especially, regained some color on his pale face as he breathed a sigh of relief. I reached for the clay pot of water that had been left in the room previously on the physician’s orders.

As the last of our meal vanished within us, I asked, “So what kind of testimony are you here to present, Neel?”

“Oh, well, it is not so much as a testimony but rather more of a character witness. I bear letters from the Master and Rudra that verify how we found you. Rudra also managed to track down the merchantmen who found you. Apparently, our village was one of their regular trading stops. They too gave their sworn word in front of the magistrate of the state you were found in.”

I was puzzled, “It seems like these documents could be sent by the courier himself. Why would they need to drag you so far just for keeping a few scrolls safe?”

Neel glanced an eye at the door and spoke in hushed voice, “I was instructed by the Master to provide moral support. He said that I was to take the place of Meru’s and Rudra’s voice here in the court on your side as a holy priest.”

While Neel stood basking in the glow of his importance, I silently cursed the two of them. Neel may have been naïve enough to be deluded into thinking he was carrying out an important task but I knew better. 

He was a scapegoat.

Neel had been sent here because the king could not execute his loyal courtiers who were under his word’s protection. But he could demand the life of their son, or in this case, their protégé; Neel. Meru had made my task absolute. 

I had to win the trial or risk the death of an innocent.


	14. The Judgement

It was early when the knock woke us up. The horizon was still dark as we made our way through the halls. I was spared the shackles this time but I felt it was more for the sake of convenience and not my own welfare. Neel had awoken with grumbling about having to perform his morning rituals but they were quieted after one look at the guards’ spears.

  
We were led through familiar passages, although nothing seemed recognizable in the darkness. The sconces on the walls had been doused in anticipation of dawn. My guards were leading me through their own knowledge of the pathways as if they did not need light to navigate the citadel. Few guards roamed the halls at this hour and fewer attendants still were in sight. It was the hour of the wolf.

This hour was the most prized time for scouts and spies. This hour before dawn was when the night was the darkest. A scout could slip into any place at this time since most garrisons were usually sleep and most guards were at their most tired level after their night duties. Any soldier who was unfortunate enough to awake at this time was busy mostly evading sergeants looking for latrine duty ‘volunteers’ or trying to get ready for morning parade. No one paid any mind to security at this hour.

It was probably why I was being secreted away at this time. After all, it made sense for a private court to be held at odd hours. There was little sense in holding discrete meetings and judgements if everyone could see where and when they were being held. Likely, only a few guards and ministers knew even where they took place.

My suspicions were confirmed when Neel and I were handed off to another group of guards similar to the ones outside the royal court. These took us through a maze of narrow passageways until we arrived at a simple but large door. Two of the guards took up position outside while the rest marched us in. We stepped through to find a large balcony with five thrones spread out in one corner while the silk curtains offered some privacy. A breeze came in, parting the curtains and I glimpsed at the massive sea of lights below me. I was in one of the citadel’s turrets!

I might as well have been flying for my feet went numb. I was no stranger to heights. But climbing trees was one thing. Standing on the parapet, I could see the farthest mountains. Men and women roamed the streets like ants to my eyes. No one in the city, much less the citadel, would have guessed that a private court was held right above their very heads.  
Only a few soft lamps hung along the walls were still burning while the sun rose in the distant horizon. Light pervaded the sky and we could make out even farther areas of the land.

“It is quite something, is it not?”

The general had come behind me flanked by two servants who immediately started arranging foods and jars along the walls. One of them came up to Neel offering a pot of water.

“It is for your morning prayers, sir. There is an alcove in the corner there if you need privacy”

Neel shrank back behind me after receiving the water. The general looked at us pointedly, “The king respects the right to prayer, Ruksha. Even for those who are steps away from their death. I cannot say how the next few hours will go so I suggest you spend this time to make peace with the gods.”

Neel, subduing a mild whimper, hurried to the alcove and soon, we could hear his fervent prayers from the alcove.

“I will not let the king take that boy’s life, general! Do what you will to me but leave him alone”, I crossed eyes with our benefactor.

A hand grabbed me by the neck and before I knew it, I was nearly dangling off the balcony. I held on to the massive arm which was slowly choking the life out of me. As the light started to fade out of my eyes, I felt a sudden breeze as I was launched back into the safety of the balcony. I had been effortlessly thrown me against a wall, knocking the air out of me. Gasping for a breath, I felt a foot on my chest; the general’s.

“‘ _Let_ him’? Who are you to dictate to the king what he can or cannot do, boy? Unless you have an army parked right outside the city gates, I doubt you have any say in the matter. The only way out of this is to prove your innocence and your worth to His Highness. You will not repeat such impudence again, especially in front of the faction heads. Meru’s name has brought out every head of the factions here in the capitol. From priests to merchantmen and the kshatriya, they all want to see how the king deals with you since you have worked as all three in the past year. You will be judged and very firmly at that, do you understand?”

A foot landed on my chest, growing heavier while I struggled to lift it off.

“You may not agree with what I say but you will understand and accept it, whelp! Agreed?”, he said forcefully.

I nodded and savored the rush of air as it flowed back within me while the man lifted his foot off me. Neel rushed to my side as our benefactor returned to his cordial smile and saw to the arrangements.

“What was that about? Why did he attack you like that, Ruksh?”, asked Neel.

A simple wave of my hand quieted his questions as we made ourselves look somewhat presentable and discussed what was to be said before the king. Neel had been more exhausted than he claimed, no matter how tough he may have pretended to be. It seemed as if the exhaustion, hunger and sleep deprivation were part of the scheme to tear down our mental defenses and make us more talkative. The king needed to know if I could be trusted and he would break us if need be to find out.

As a select few attendants poured in, with their ornaments and adornments becoming ever finer, I suspected that king would soon arrive. Soon, courtiers came in groups, some of priestly orders and some were Kshatriya, while some were functionaries flanked by their attendants carrying massive tomes and scrolls. There would be no grand announcements here like in the main court. More soldiers soon lined the balcony walls and the king arrived without any panoply or pomp. There was work to be done here and he needed it done efficiently and quietly.

The ministers followed the king as he saluted the sun in the horizon and took the throne. The chamberlain stepped forth to read the agenda, including my own hearing at the beginning.

“In the name of great King Jarasanda, this special court in hereby in session to hear the claim of the interloper Ruksh of Vanga, accused of crimes against the crown. He was charged with trespassing, illegal usage of weapons and espionage against Magadha and now, he is vouched for by ministers in exile. If I have your permission to begin, my king, then I invite the accused to speak in his defense”

The king nodded as he, along with the every man and woman there, focused their eyes on me. The general stood up to speak. He bowed to the king and the royal priests and started to speak. It may have been my imagination but some of the priests sneered with disdain while some of the generals there returned his bow with respect.

“Noble men of this court, hear me. As of the last time when this boy was presented before us, I have found new evidence that sheds more light on his origins and proves his innocence of the charge of espionage. This young priest has ridden from Vanga bearing these letters that prove that the accused has not consorted with any known enemies of the kingdom. In fact, he has served our cause faithfully as a soldier in the scout division of our allied army. If it pleases the emperor, I would like to submit the letters for your inspection. You will notice that the seal if that of Shukraman, one of the most trusted magistrates in the Aryan lands whose integrity is beyond reproach.”

Neel, upon hearing his cue, sprang up to deliver the sealed letters in the chamberlain’s hands who held them up to show their seal was unbroken. He broke the seals and read them aloud, starting with that of Meru and then Rudra’s and ending with those of the merchantmen who found me. The court fell silent and listened intently to every word.  
As he finished, a man from the priests’ delegation rose and asked for the king’s permission to speak.

“My king, these words may have been written in the presence of a trusted man. But what they speak and for whom they speak is an entirely different matter. These letters were sent by those whom you exiled for consorting with the enemy Yadus. They fully acknowledge that this man, who pretends to be a victim of poverty, has falsely taken on the garb of a mendicant or a Kshatriya when it suited him. The search of his hovel in the forest revealed not only his weapons but also a sizable sum of money. Enough money to thrive and feed himself. He has lied, my king. Is that not enough? As for his record of service, might I ask a question of the accused?”

The priest looked to me as he continued, “You say you were trained by Rudra to be a scout, yes? In fact, your master speaks volumes of your capabilities as a warrior. I have also heard that you rescued our dear brave general and his men from some wild cats. Quite a formidable warrior, I see. Then, why did you not enlist in Magadha’s army? Surely, we have made the summons widely known. I doubt there is a child within the kingdom who does not know of the call to arms. Then why did you not present yourself to the nearest barracks if you are such a…patriot?”

My heart beat so furiously, it would have burst, had it not been for one detail that the letters left out.

“My king, there is a little known part of this evidence that has yet to be revealed before you. The traders’ tale of my discovery as a wild beast-man is as true as it is unbelievable. As corroborated by your own physician, Meru, my priestly benefactor surmised that I was hit by a celestial astra and lost my memories. It was his guess that learning the higher mysteries of celestial weapons would help me regain my mind and make me whole again. As such, I came to Magadha seeking a weapons master who would impart to me the very same knowledge. As a stranger to these lands and not knowing of my own origins, I saw fit to pay homage to both my masters, the priest Meru and the Kshatriya Rudra, by taking up their habits and practicing what they taught me. I practiced austerity in the forest and trained my senses against the forest’s dangers to follow the instructions of my teachers. The monies you found in my belongings were offerings for my would-be guru as guru-dakshina fee. O great king, you are the epitome of Kshatriya warriors. Surely you would agree that following a guru’s instructions is the code of the disciple, no matter what.”

“You weave a good story, imposter, but you still have not answered the question. Why did you not enlist in the army? Ignoring the call is hardly the action of a loyal man.”, the priest interjected to calm the murmurs that rose from the revelation of my wound.

The general spoke up in turn, “The honorable priest forgets that any man is excused from compulsory military service under four conditions; if he is actively serving in an allied army or in bureaucracy, debilitating conditions of the body, the very young and old aged. Since Ruksh is still a member of Vanga’s forces and is here to learn new skills, he is technically retraining. Our very own physician has verified the accused of having a crippling mental injury. We can hardly blame a man for trying to become whole so as to be a better warrior. I ask my compatriots here if they would want a soldier under their command who can lose his mind in the middle of the fray. Such a man would be a liability to himself and his comrades.”

  
I knew that the general and I were stretching the truth here but it was important not to lie. After all, Rudra had praised my skills as a scout and a spearman. But the warnings had been clear in this regard. As the court murmured amongst themselves, I could hear many in both the priestly and military sections debating my fate. The priests, in particular, were appalled that I had taken advantage of their order’s habits and demanded my immediate execution. Some advocated for leniency, especially quoting the words of my former masters.

The king raised his hand and silence soon fell in the court, “You have all heard the testimony presented here. Is there anything left to say in the accused’s defense or accusation? If so, then speak your mind.”

When none spoke, a select few from the many factions came forth with their judgments. The general, heading up the military faction, spoke in my favor, asking for my retraining as a rathi candidate, to no one’s surprise. The priests were divided and decried my actions, asking for my exile. The merchant guilds requested leniency and asked for 6 months of labor in the king’s service to compensate for living off the king’s forest.

The king heard the judgements and his voice boomed, “Very well. I have heard this man’s testimony and the evidence. There is no doubt that he is a crafty little man, well trained and with considerable potential. It would be a great waste to simply kill him and I cannot let him roam the countryside where he may serve our enemies.”

I breathed a sigh of relief as I felt the weight of the three worlds lift off my shoulders. I was going to live. Neel clasped my hand in a smile as the king continued.

“Yet, no matter what the reason may be, he has committed a crime. He trespassed on my lands without leave, a crime which should merit death. But he also saved the life of my men. Reward and punishment will both go hand in hand for this man. Ruksh of Vanga, I give you your life in exchange for those of my men. You will not die at my hands or any hands belonging to Magadha. You will, however, serve Magadha and you will prove if you are worthy of receiving the higher knowledge you seek. I, King of Magadha, order you to go to Dwarka and bring me one of their sacred cows alive. Succeed and I will train you myself in the battle arts, boy. If you fail, then you will find death to be a welcome fate.”


	15. A Promise

The words hit me like a mountain as the king's decision bid his soldiers to remove me from his presence. The court soon moved on to other issues as the chamberlain read aloud the next item on his scroll. Meanwhile, I processed what I had just heard. I was being commanded to get a cow in exchange for sparing my life. And not just any cow but a sacred one from a clan of cow worshippers with an army that rivaled Jarasandha’s own army. The fates must have been laughing for this could only be a grand cosmic joke.

My benefactor, the general, came up behind me with Neel and we were dragged back to the dormitories hurriedly. No one spoke a word until we had reached the dormitory. A quick word to one of the attendants on the way back had a group of servants waiting for us with refreshments and new attire. A handful of chairs and a table had been added to the room along with some parchment and writing utensils. The general waved the servants out and closed the door behind us as we sat down to make sense of what had happened. I was still reeling from the judgement, wondering if I could have said anything else to make it go either way.

“You should both eat something. An empty stomach is of no use to the mind”, the general invited us to partake in the food before us. Meru’s words were echoing from the far corners of my memory. He too would have said the same thing here as he did before when we had learned of my wound’s nature. The meal was not as drab as the prison rations from before but they were far more palatable. A collection fo fresh fruits with flatbread and spiced dahl was spread before us. To cool it down, fresh water had been supplied. We dug in and for a while, no one said a word. When the meal was gulped down, our thoughts returned to the matter we had surrendered to our hunger before; my fate.

“I will not lie to you, Ruksh. This is bad…very bad.”

Well, at least he was not sugarcoating it. I wondered what the general would say if he did try to cheer me up.

“What is this cow that the king wants me to get anyway?”, I asked. Once again, I needed information and its source was none other than the bookish Neel.

The young priest spoke up, “Lord Krishna of the Yadavas is said to have brought forth magical cows that produce the most delicious milk. Its butter is so enriched that it is said to be the holiest offering for a yagya there can ever be. The Yadavas know this too and they guard their cowherds fiercely…even more so than their own children. Some even say that they are the offspring of the cow goddess Kamadhenu and to steal them from their caregivers is to bring about a curse upon yourself.”

“Indeed. My own men have failed in numerous cow raids. The king knows this too. I fear this may be his way of getting rid of you instead of testing you”, added the general.

“How so? I thought he said he would spare my life? Is the king’s word that useless?”, I spoke up angrily.

The general raised his hands in a calming gesture, “The king is making sure that if you fail, it is Yadus who will most likely kill you. If by some miracle you are able to procure one of their sacred cows, the Brahmin priests will raise their ire and you will likely be sent off on another fool’s errand. Jarasandha will not train you either way.”

It finally sunk in that the tribulations of so many weeks had been for nothing. I was back to where I started and with an added “heroic” task. The only consolation out of this was that Neel was spared. I nearly said as much when even that silver lining was shrouded.

“Do not thing Neel is out of trouble yet. If you shirk from this, it would be a direct violation of the king’s orders. Not only will you likely be hunted down, but Neel will also most likely be punished for vouching for you as will I. Being a false character witness to help someone escape the king’s justice is still a crime, after all”, said the general.

“So what should I do? Walk into Dwarka and ask them for a magical cow?”, I nearly yelled as much.

“I doubt they will just give you one. Remember when I said that these cows produce butter that sanctifies any yagya, even those committed for nefarious ends. The yadavas are aware of the emperor’s collection of royal prisoners and why are they are being assembled. They will not let you provide their greatest enemy with the means to destroy them”, elaborated Neel in his matter-of-fact tone.

His way of intellectualizing everything to suppress his anxieties and fears could always be felt in a slight tense tenor of his voice. Right now, he could have been singing, such was the tension in his speech. The revelation that he could be executed any moment for simply being a courier had been unexpected but at least, I had a few hours to cope with it. Neel had not been so lucky.

“I think he should do just that”

The words seemed to come as a jest when I heard them but the general’s face was as grim as ever without the slightest hint of humor. He really meant what he said. What was it about him and Meru that they both seemed to give the same advice? The only difference was that this one used his fists to make his point while Meru would have simply provided some vague logic of his own and told me to trust in Lord Shiva.

Before I could ask further, he held up a hand while looking around, “Not here. Citadels walls have ears everywhere, especially these ones. I will send for you later. I have been instructed to give you whatever you need for your travels to Dwarka. In the meantime, I will arrange for Neel to be escorted back to Vanga safely. And more comfortably. My men will come to find you both in an hour.” He added the last part over any protests from the priest acolyte who still remembered his last journey with a military escort rather painfully.

With that, we were left alone in the room, exhausted after the exhilaration of the morning had passed. Neel spoke of the village and Meru’s latest debates and regaled me with tales of his new students. It was his way of avoiding the stress of late and I too could use the distraction. I told him of how Meru and Rudra were in fact, former minister and general of the Mathura court. His expression was worthy of being engraved when he found out he was learning from the former prime minister of the Yadu dynasty.

The knock on the door brought two men who had orders to take us away. Neel hugged me tightly as if to make up for the time he had missed in Vanga, “Promise me you will be careful, Ruksh. Do not worry about me. I mean it, Ruksh!”

The genuine interest of the priest moved me and I promised him something else, “Oh, I know you can take care of yourself, Neel. But I will not let harm befall you. I _will_ go to Dwarka if only to keep the king’s command and see you safe. Tell Rudra that I still have his knife and his student will return it in person.”

We laughed as we made promises fate would probably never let us keep. The guards looked to us with odd looks as if we had gone insane. After all, I had said some brave words that many a man in Magadha had said before marching to their death at the hands of Yadus. Now, all I had to do was find a way to keep that promise.


	16. Dangerous Talk

“Three blankets, 10 travels packs of bread, three waterskins, one flint, one rope of seven lengths with one climbing hook, one hemp net, one field medical kit, 6 short spears, 6 short knives, three quivers, 120 steel tipped arrows, three wooden bows, three leather vests, three helmets, three pairs of leather sandals, 3 pairs of leather vambraces, 3 pairs of leather gauntlets and lastly, one double tipped spear.”

The quartermaster must have had a face made of stone to not even blink once while he rang off the enormous list. Three men checked the rows of supplies littered before them to see if anything was missing.

“What about the oilskin and the hatchet?”, one the three burly soldiers inspecting his travel kit spoke up while rambling through the contents of his rucksack.

“Hmmm, you have not been issued any oil but the hatchet is”, replied the overseer as he sent one of his runners to fetch the item.

“No oil? How are we supposed to infiltrate Dwarka without being able to light torches at night?”, asked another of my would-be escorts.

“You will not travel at night and you are not being asked to infiltrate Dwarka...well, not successfully at least”, a voice came from the door. The general stepped through and the four men immediately stood at attention. He motioned them to be at ease and the four immediately slid into another ‘relaxed’ position.

Despite all my misgivings about my benefactor’s mysteries, I had to admit, he knew how to command. Out of respect or fear, his soldiers followed his every order to the letter, no matter how ridiculous it may be. I suppose one had to be so in order to become a general for the most feared king in the lands. Still, there was a veil of mystery around this man who had lent me his support. His words against his own king had helped me and my friends save our necks. Yet, I felt like I was missing a key part of the puzzle that was the key to understanding why I was being helped by him. Perhaps it was just my own curiosity but the men around me seemed to take this mystery for granted, which infuriated me even more.

“You three will not be infiltrating Dwarka as escorts. Rather, you will travel with Ruksh here to their border and then split off at Kelava pass. Once there, you will split off to create enough ruckus to draw off one of their patrols and create an opening long enough for him to slip in and out. You have all been selected because you are the finest in your units and you all have experience in patrols near Dwarka. I understand you may have more questions and concerns and you will keep those questions to yourselves. You will not tell anything of this to your wives, children or your parents. Not a single soul outside of this room will learn of what you are being asked to do and if everything goes according to plan, no one ever will. Now, anything else? Remain vigilant, be careful and good luck!”

The three men remained silent and the general nodded dismissing them, “Ruksh, come with me, I want you to review some more maps and intelligence reports.”

As we left the room with me trailing behind him, we walked without saying much for a while. The route, like any other in the citadel, was unfamiliar to me but I could tell we were leaving the outer confines of the palace. Soon, clatter of hooves became deafening as we came upon a ridge overlooking massive area teeming with horses. Somehow, we had traversed underneath the capital’s walls and its surrounding mountainside to a pasture outside. Between the herds and the training cavalry troops, it was like being in the middle of a sea of green with specks of multicolored specks around us.

A cavalry officer rode up to us to check for interlopers, “Hey, civilians are not allowed here! Oh, apologies, General, I did not know it was you. Forgive me, sir, I thought it was trespassers. The king has ordered stricter patrols of grounds since-”

One look at me and the officer bit his tongue. Of course, the king would have punished the patrols responsible for securing his hunting lands since my vacation there. He may have forgiven me but someone had to take the blame nonetheless.

The general held up a hand, smiling, “No offense taken, sergeant. It was my mistake. I am out of uniform and this man is with me. However, if you can tell your sentries hiding in the herds not to shoot at us seeing as we are not immune to arrows…”

The sergeant hurriedly signaled behind him frantically waving his arms and green shapes rose from the ground saluting in our general direction and then resuming their camouflaged posts. The horseman took his leave and left for his patrol route, leaving us alone again.

“Magnificent, is it not? We were able to hide an entire outpost on this plateau right outside the city. We can train and house nearly 50,000 troops right here, exclusively for the capital’s defense.”

I nearly choked upon hearing of this. _50,000?!_

I knew Magadha’s army was large but to have such a massive force for one city alone…The logistics alone were staggering. It would take entire lakes just to quench the thirst of such an army, let alone their enormous food requirements. We walked around the edges of the pasture as it changed to a rockier hillside and soon, to an entire cave system carved into the mountain side. An entire fort had been tunneled into the mountain and from the looks of it, this was just a part of a greater complex in the hills surrounding the capital.

Militarily, it made sense. Jarasandha needed his armies where they could not be spied on and yet, be trained, outfitted and dispatched discretely and efficiently. The mountainsides offered ideal privacy and shelter from the elements. I could imagine the enemy’s horror on facing the armed walls of the capital and an army popping out behind them without warning. We came upon a solitary spot carved on the hill that gave us a vantage view of the entire steppe.

“Here, we have trained men since time immemorial. Even before Rajagriha was founded, these hills were home to tribes that roamed these pastures on their wild horses, descending on those travelling through the valleys. My own ancestors lived here freely until we swore allegiance to Magadha.”

“Do you miss that freedom, general?” I asked.

“Honestly, I do not know. We were free, I admit, but to what end, to kill and war on each other? We owned these passes and valleys, feared throughout the lands as wild raiders of the hills. Now, we just do it on a grander scale against cities and kingdoms. Magadha gave us…structure, opportunities, prosperity”, he carefully replied.

“And respect?”, I again interjected.

He laughed, “Respect? Now there’s a question. Tell me something. You have been a soldier, yes? If your commanding officer were to give you an order that you know will kill you, is he showing you respect?”

Every instinct I had cried no but I answered yes. Maybe I was turning into a hero as I had feared. “I suppose if the reasons were honorable, I would, yes.”

“And if you were to go die for your king’s pride, like so many Kshatriya today?”

“Frankly, general, I make it my business to avoid battles like those. One of the privileges of being a scout, you see?”, I laughed.

The general gave me an inquisitive look, obvious to my evasion of the same question. A month ago, I would have said no. But after my stint with the general in the forest, something had changed inside me. I carried more responsibility now and from that, I knew I had to act honorably lest those who had cared for me be sacrificed for me.

The general dropped his smile and turned to the men around us, “Many of these men do not have that luxury, Ruksh. They must go to the frontlines and face arrows and swords while trying to keep formation in a sea of vomit and blood, many a times their own. So many will end up dying in some godforsaken ditch on a battlefield because their king wanted more land, more wives, and more power. That is the Kshatriya code being preached these days in the monasteries. It is my job to take children who come from small farms with delusions of being maharathis and train them in the realities of war. I have to show them how to survive a battle, how to fight and how to die with honor when their time comes. Just like those three men who will be going with you.”

That jolted my heart right out of my body.

“What do you mean, general? What is going to happen to the three escorts?”, I furiously asked him.

The general replied, “Exactly what you know is going to happen, Ruksh. Those three are a distraction for you to enter Dwarka unnoticed. You and I both know your chances of stealing a cow are slim at best. So we are going to give you a cover story. In the event you are captured, you will tell them you have escaped Magadha’s prisons and those three were sent to recapture you. My men will likely be captured, taken as prisoners or at least given quick painless deaths. Hopefully, they can return to our lines beforehand. This is not the first time I have had to give such an order, Ruksh, but it will be the last.”

I could tell the general had a pained look on his face. He genuinely cared for the lives of his men. Rudra had warned us to maintain a certain degree of emotional detachment in military life. Eventually, I suppose even hardened veterans found it difficult to keep up such a thing. I listened intently as he continued.

“Now, this is important, Ruksh. In the event you are captured, you must tell them you have escaped Magadha to bring a message to Lord Krishna. You will them that the captured kings have sent a plea for help.”

This truly turning into a day of surprises for me. A prized general of the Jarasandha army was telling me to defect if captured. I looked around to see if anyone was overhearing us. Hell, maybe even this man was testing my loyalty by seeing if I would even agree to defect.

On the other hand, the man seemed to read my thoughts, “This is not a test, Ruksh, or a joke. I am serious. You must think I am mad, don’t you? It is alright, you can speak your mind here, Ruksh.”

I almost blurted those very words, “Are you m….in your right mind, sir? You are talking of treason here. I can tell you as a recent guest of your dungeons, this is dangerous talk.”

I would have gladly shifted the conversation to anything other than this. After all, I had no idea what was going on here except that this man was speaking oddly and extremely dangerously.

The general shook his head, no doubt used to the fear of spies in the people here, “Very well, do not speak but listen. I have stood here in this spot watching hundreds of thousands of children trained into men of war. Every man who leaves here can wrestle a tiger, survive in the harshest conditions and fight to his last breath. And yet, we cannot win against Dwarka because Lord Krishna protects the Yadus. What began as revenge has turned into an obsession for the king. He mounts more and more massive raids against them with no regard for the waste of human life. I will admit that I was one of the first ones to take up the sword in this feud for my king. And if called, I will do so again without a doubt. Perhaps it is my fault to begin with…”

He took a deep breath, looking out to the horizon as he reached to his neck grasping for something.

“I have lost too many good friends and comrades and…someone else close to me in this war. I will not let his..their sacrifice be in vain. If you can wrest a cow, so be it. But if the likely happens and you are captured, you will tell them you escaped Magadha to bring a plea for help from the kings captured here. You can be creative enough under pressure. I saw that much in court. You will not exactly be lying and I would not recommend it, at least not before Lord Krishna. The Yadavas will be honor bound to send aid. Either way, Dwarka and Magadh will finish this stalemate once and for all. I have sent good men.. _my_ men to die beneath the walls of Dwarka for too long. Legions have fallen in an instant on the shores of that accursed city and I will not have it anymore.”

I had been around Rudra long enough to know that to command is never easy. To hold someone’s life in your hands and order it to be sacrificed in war was a heavy burden. It took its toll on men and even seasoned veterans could succumb.

“General, I share your grief. I thanks the gods I have not had to take a life yet in battle and pray that I never have to do so. But you have been fighting these wars for years. Why this change now? Even if I do defect, they will not believe a runaway. My trial was held in full court. No doubt, their spies here have already told them about a certain imposter monk caught trespassing.”

The general looked down at his hand that was still grasping something around his neck. He reached back and undid some bindings to produce a small pouch in his hand, thrusting it forth for me to take it.

I could tell it had to be some kind of personal seal but even that would not explain the trembling hands. I undid the covering around the pouch and slowly took out a small rock…no, it was a gem. I held a solid yellow rock with some kind of black core inside. As I turned it, wonder turned to revulsion and I could feel my previous meal returning back up.

A wave of nausea hit me as I looked upon a small rock of amber with a perfectly preserved finger inside, specifically a thumb.

What kind of a man carried around a cut off thumb?

I looked up to the general who had tears in his eyes as he looked down on the rock. Before I could ask, he answered, “This is all that remains of my son. It is a reminder that some promises…some duties demand too much of us.”

I had heard a story from Meru about a master and his student that gave me a vague idea. If this truly was the same, I was holding one of the holiest relics in the history of mankind.

“Wha…What was the name of your son, general?”

The tears were still falling when the word sounded, “Eklavya”


	17. The Man and the Father

I was holding a dead man’s severed thumb.

Granted, it was a hero’s thumb but a cut off appendage was still an awkward token of identity. I quickly replaced it back in its pouch lest the revulsion within me become apparent. Holy relics came in all shapes and sizes but never had I imagined such a thing. The old man had to be mad to entrust me with something like this and expect it work.

“Pardon me, general, but how is your son’s cut off thumb going to help me convince the Yadus that I genuinely defecting?”, I asked.

He still held his gaze on the pouch lying in my hands and spoke,” That is the last remaining vestige of my son. To anyone other than Lord Krishna, it would be a sentimental trinket. But if it goes in the right hands, it will send a clear message; that you have the support of Hiranyadanush of Magadha behind you. Trust me, this will allay any doubts among the Yadu court of your sincerity.”

“I still have my doubts on this plan, general. How am I supposed to convince an entire kingdom when even I am not convinced?”, I nearly cried out.

“You will have to trust me on this, Ruksh. Many in the Narayani Sena, the armed forces of Dwarka, know of the story behind that thumb. They know that whoever holds it has my complete faith. And if the most loyal general of Magadha can do something like this, the Yadus will not let go of such an opportunity to topple their greatest enemy. They _will_ sense dissension in our ranks and plan a raid to free those kings. Lord Krishna _will_ come here and when He does, I have no doubt that Jarasandha will fall.”

I was puzzled, “General, the Yadus have fought you for years. Why would they attack you now just because you gave them an opening? If they are as powerful as you say they are, they should not need your help anyway.”

Hiranyadanush reminisced and looked up, “The Yadus are powerful and mighty and Lord Krishna know this too. If need be, they can conquer the entire earth easily. But that is precisely why Lords Krishna and Balrama do not do this. They know that might alone does not give them the right to rule others. To do so would make them just like Jarasandha. Someone who preys on the weak and vulnerable to fulfill his own thirst for power. I suspect that Lord Krishna was waiting for the moment when Jarasandha’s own people would realize his cruelty and overthrow him. He probably wanted to avoid the wanton bloodshed that is bound to happen if they invaded us.”

“So how will you avoid that bloodshed now, general? You just said you want them to attack. What _do_ you plan to do anyway?”, the frustration within me was nearly pouring out and it took all my strength to control my voice lest some errant word catch the wrong ears.

Then, the strangest thing happened and the man laughed. I was on the verge of madness at the sheer audacity of this old man’s foolhardiness and he was laughing.

“You have never met Him, have you?”, he asked me, “Once you see Lord Krishna, and I mean truly see Him, you will realize that He will find a way. Anyone who can move entire mountains, migrate entire cities with His mere wish, will find a way to take down Jarasandha. I am certain of it.”

The man’s certainty sounded more like faith and it reminded me of Meru’s trust in the higher cosmic powers. It was frightening for me to leave one’s own destiny to the hands of fate and yet, men like Meru and Neel did so every day.

There was only one thing I needed to ask my helper.

“You have told me many reasons why you are doing this, general. But you have not told me _the_ reason, have you? What did Jarasandha do to you that would make you turn against him?”, I asked.

Almost instinctively reaching for his neck, the general stopped midway and looked to the jewel, “He took my son from me.”

I was puzzled, “Your son? From what I heard, Eklavya cut off his thumb gave up his right hand’s thumb as fee for his weapons master. Where does the king fit into all this?”

“Because he as well have killed him!”, the general had a furious look in his eyes before calming and looking around to see if anyone noticed his little outburst. Convinced we were still away from prying ears and eyes, he continued.

“My son was around your age when he became a master archer. He had all the makings of a maharathi when he was little. Jarasandha heard of his capabilities and filled his head with delusions. Drona was known in those times as the greatest weapons master in all the lands. The king wanted a fighter trained by the greatest and no one else. Next thing I knew, my son was walking into the school of Jarasandha’s enemies, the Kurus, to learn from their weapons master, Sage Drona. Jarasandha knew! He had to have known the Kurus would never teach the higher mysteries of warfare to a Nishada, let alone one that served an enemy state. But Jarasandha manipulated my son so he could have another maharathi archer serving him.

“Before I could stop him, my son left home thinking it was my wish that he learn from Drona when it was just Jarasandha twisting his mind. Eklavya became so obsessed with learning from our enemies that he…”

His voice faltered but there was no need for any more to be said. The story itself was well known. Eklavya had hidden outside Drona’s school and learnt from afar, observing the students and their lessons from hiding. When found out, a terrible fee was exacted in the form of his right hand’s thumb which the student was happy to pay. I could only imagine the boy’s face wide with joy, to have repaid his master in blood and body.

“In all this, general, it seems Jarasandha did what he has been doing for years to everyone. Were you truly surprised that it would happen to your own family?”, I spoke.

Hiranyadanush replied roughly through gritted teeth, “What my son did made me proud. No father could have asked for a more honorable child. Yet, every drop of blood from his hand, every tear my boy shed for having lost the entirety of his art reminded me that Jarasandha DID have some part to play in this. And he was not finished there, either. My son was still capable with his other arm and he was determined to prove he could fight. The king, instead, was less than pleased when my son returned from Hastinapur a handicapped warrior instead of as a maharathi. So my son was shipped off to the frontlines to die in a raid against Dwarka. All that my son sacrificed was for the glory of his king. I am witness to my son’s tears, sweat and blood that he shed for his king and still, he was discarded. I will _never_ forgive that! I _cannot_ forgive that!”

My benefactor’ fiery hatred of his master came as a surprise but not a welcome one. If I had come to depend on one thing in the capital, it was that this man before me was a simple buy loyal soldier who could be expected to behave honorably. That usually meant reliable in my book or rather, predictable.

But a grieving father was too…emotional. Such emotions made one unpredictable and I had been a victim of running emotions one too many times in the forest with the escaped prisoner. I knew this hatred would wane one of these days with time and then, the cold reality will come crushing down on him. He will realize that if the king finds out of his treason, his worst fears would become manifest. Emotions, especially fear and hatred, could make one do stupid things. A single wrong word at the wrong time or place could expose his treachery and I would be caught square in the middle of it.

“I understand your anger, general, I truly do. But you do realize what you are asking me to do is tantamount to treason of the highest penalty. You yourself explained to that escaping king what Jarasandha does to traitors. I cannot let Meru, Rudra and Neel suffer for your vengeance. Forgive me...but I cannot risk their lives any more in this”, I spoke up carefully.

Then, the man looked up to me and said the strangest thing, “Whose plan do you think it is to begin with?”

Upon seeing my puzzled face, he sighed, “Ruksh, do you really think that everything that has happened since your capture in Rajagriha is a coincidence? Why do you think I stood up for you in the court? Who sent Neel here in your defense? Who tracked down those merchants for a sworn statement in front of a magistrate, no less?”

The questions led me to a single answer in my mind and yet, my heart did not want to accept it. Somehow, though, it did make sense. The kind old man who had taken me in had turned out be a minister well versed in statecraft and espionage. The village leader of a ragtag band of scouts had instead been a military general in a massive army. At this point, the oddity of the theory did not discount its logic in my mind. The theory that Meru and Rudra were behind my current predicament forcing me to go on a suicide mission to Dwaraka.

The general seemed to read my mind, “I do not know what purpose your quest serves, Ruksh. But I do know that if Meru has faith in you, so should I. That man is rarely wrong and I have yet to see it happen. Meru may not have many friends here in the capital but he does have one in me. His faith in you convinces me that you can be trusted with my faith.

“Ruksh, do not fear for anyone right now. We have learned well to hide our true selves from the king’s spies for a long time. We are still loyal to Magadha if not its king. No one can question us in that. For now, focus on your journey. Besides, I have seen you fight in the jungles outside the cities and in those of the royal kinds as well. You can handle yourself well with unconventional means when confronted with an unconventional situation. That makes me believe that you will not go running from here to the royal court speaking of my plan.”

Until the man said so, that was one of the possibilities I had planned for how the next hour would pass. The mere idea of going against that titan of a king seemed ridiculous compared to the thought of running straight to his court and spilling this secret. But then, who would the king believe? A decorated military officer or a recently accused convict? Hiranyadanush would merely laugh it off and Jarasandha would throw out my accusation while throwing me out of the living world with that monstrous mace of his.

I was trapped. The general had entrusted this secret to me knowing I could not do anything to expose it even if I wanted to. No one would believe me.

I had but one recourse left. To go to Dwaraka…


	18. The Outpost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all,
> 
> thanks for being so patient over the last 2 months. hopefully i'll be able to put in more of this in a timely fashion.
> 
> enjoy!

“How far to the pass?”

I was sure I had said those words a dozen times by now but the answer was still the same. Silence and empty looks from my three travelling companions.

We had started out from Rajagriha two days ago on horseback until reaching the last outpost near the border, from where we had set out on foot. Fresh horses and supplies had been waiting for us at every step along the patrol routes and we had ridden without stopping. By now, I was sure even my escorts were fatigued from such a journey although none showed it. Their faces were all like stone, always vigilant and communicating in some form of silent code of handsigns and birdcalls.

Any question from my part was always met with a silent stare or a nod. Perhaps it was their training or that they knew they were going to be sacrificed as a distraction. From what I had gathered, they were well-trained, tough and thoroughly professional. They must have known from the beginning that their orders were nearly suicidal. Maybe they were resigned to their fate and thought it best not to interact too much with me, lest they let slip their inner frustration. I would not have blamed them if they felt even a tinge of hatred towards me for being the reason of this fatal commands.

It still made for a dull journey if any conversation was one sided. I had resorted to naming my companions after the solar deities. At first, I had settled on Surya, Chandra and Bhumi. Then, on being rather rudely rebuffed for too long, the names had turned to Rahu, Ketu and Shani. ‘Rahu’ was the particularly sour leader of the group who I had guessed to be an officer in the cavalry scout division. He was a middle aged hulk who probably could have wrestled Jarasandha to the ground. ‘Ketu’ was the youngest of the group, eager but skilled and who often acted as the forward lookout for our four man formation. Lastly, ‘Shani’ was the oldest who was mute from an old neck injury, though his age or his disability did not slow him in any way. I guessed him to be a field medic from a kit of herbs that he carried around. ‘Rahu’ too looked to him for advice now and then. The man was probably the only one who treated me like a human and not another piece of luggage that they had been tasked with transporting.

I wondered if all three of them communicated in silence so as to work better together. Most squads and platoons often embraced the limitations of their members so as to function more effectively. From the looks of it, these three had worked together often and they had adopted silence to make up for the disability of their silent teammate. It was the only consolation for me that this might let them escape the death trap planned before us. My concern for them almost immediately evaporated once they figured out that I was useless since I did not know the terrain or their signals and I was delegated to the important task of pack mule. Under the miserable weight of their collective extra rucksacks, I had to keep pace with them which made their upcoming misery not as woeful as I had imagined.

The plan was for us to get to Kelava pass, a narrow mountain route that was the shortest and most direct route to the coastline of Dwaraka. Any other route along its flanks usually added weeks to the journey and logistically, that was always disastrous for an army. According to Magadha’s intelligence reports, the Yadus knew of this and fiercely patrolled the area, maintaining regular patrols between the pass and the coastal city. Any incursion was immediately reported via flame signals. In the event of the signals being compromised, a fast ship was always moored at the coast with standing orders to transport any patrol immediately to Dwaraka.

That is where I came in. The idea was for my companions to draw off one their patrols by attacking one of the signal flares. This would supposedly create an opening in their security perimeter long enough for me to slip through, steal one of their uniforms and use the ship to get to Dwaraka. From there, the task would involve a great deal of improvising and prayer. Somehow, I would have to pretend to be a travelling cowherd and steal one of their sacred cows. I was beginning to wonder why almost all my journeys lately had begun with a ridiculous plan. Fate seemed to make things work for me but then again, I had a lot of help. Here, I would be on my own.

I had not even begun to entertain the possibility of capture since it meant using the secret Hiranyadanush had given me. The secret to turn sides and ask the lords of Dwaraka to send aid for the captured royalty in Magadha. And the secret that would make me the most hated enemy of the monstrous king of Magadha. Not to mention my own friends would become prime targets as well for reprisals.

I pushed such thoughts aside and strode ahead in our four man formation until I had lost count of the hours. The sun was beginning to set and Rahu raised his hand to signal the end of our march for the day. Slowly but steadily, I had begun to learn their signal code, since it was much like the one I used with Rudra in Vanga. While I was happy to let off the heavy rucksacks off my back, we were still exposed. Granted, we were still in Magadha’s territory and another half a day’s march from the pass by my estimate. Any sighting of a fire would seem like a routine patrol. It was only close to the pass that we have to practice more stealth. Still, Rahu’s caution had rubbed off on all of us and we treated this place as enemy territory.

Before I could ask of a place to camp, the three turned and started climbing up the ridge of a low mountain. As far as hiding places went, it was the least ideal place in my view. It was a good location for a sentry but not as secretive as I would have desired since I could see the entire valley from here but a trained eye in the entire valley would also be able to spot us. Somehow, I knew my concerns would be ignored before I voice them as Surya silenced my opening mouth with his hand at the first syllable. All three of them gave me stern glares and pointed to a crevice in the side of the cliff.

At first glance, it seemed like any other rock formation but a closer eye, at my companions’ insistence, showed something more. The boulders on the rock edifice had pockets of a low tree line in-between and there, stood an anomaly. A small dirt path went through them without any visible exit. It would be a tight fit but a man could crawl through it slanted to a side with his equipment tied behind him. Reaching for the rocks, we tied our rucksacks together with a rope and slowly slid through. The travel bags were dragged behind us and we slowly made our way through until it had become completely dark.

This was not the first time I had to crawl through a dark cave. Rudra’s training had practically turned half his students into lizards. But the pitch black surroundings coupled with the noxious smell of bat droppings as we crawled our way through them and the certain possibility of snakes running around would have scared any beast with eyes out of here. If not for the taut rope tied to those ahead of me, assuring me of their safety, I would have probably succumbed to the collective assault on my senses. My hands could feel a smooth contour along the walls as the opening ahead became wider and the air became fresher. A faint sound of water trickling became louder until it became deafening and a faint light became visible ahead.

_Just what was it with Magadha landing me in such deep dark pits?!!_

My irritation slowly gave way to wonder as the path became wider until I could fully stand up and the three soldiers were milling around in some form of odd bluish hue against the walls. It was almost impossible for caves to expand this suddenly, especially those connected to underground streams. All four of us should have been drowned at the depth to which we had crawled through the mountain and yet, we were barely doused from the moisture in the air.

As Rahu saw me coming out of the crevice, he signaled for the group to pull up our remaining supplies. The next few minutes were spent in all four of us dragging up and unbinding our travel packs while I took in our new surroundings.

I was in some form of subterranean cave with an underground pool that was fed by a large waterfall, no doubt coming in from the many rivers along the coast. As I took in my surroundings, I could make out more of the cave’s features, many of which seemed manmade. If I had to guess, I would say that one of Magadha’s scouting parties had found this little cave and they had sent in their craftsmen to expand it as a subterranean base for the sentry post above.

It was ingenious, I had to admit. A small party could stealthily keep watch over the entire Kelava pass from above while keeping a large stock of supplies below far from enemy’s reach in the event of a siege. Some form of wooden and metallic scaffolding around the feeding waterfall gave me another idea that many such underground streams and caves could be used to spy along this entire coast. No doubt another cave upstream could simply float supplies down the river and it would end up here.

This entire mountain was a hidden fort! The skill of Magadha’s people had never failed to impress me. I wondered if such craft could be turned to a nobler goal than making war, Magadha could truly rule the world.

My three escorts split up their duties with Rahu restocking the post's stocks with our supplies, Shani preparing tactical packs while Ketu and I were to patrol the perimeter. The young lad took me by the arm and we set about touring the underground complex. Part of our duties was also to check the structural integrity of the complex and make note of any needed repairs for the engineers back in Rajagriha. As Ketu checked every wall and floor for footprints or cracks, I stood guard for any other human surprises. It took us the better part of the day before the inspection was done and we returned from our patrol. Jarasandha would have been pleased to know that the greatest danger to his outpost here was an overgrowth of shrubbery.

Meanwhile, Shani had unpacked some of our food stacks and even the three men, whom I had imagined to have no stomachs entirely, broke off their duties eagerly to sit down and eat. The meal was exactly as I had come to expect from my time in Vanga’s military; nutritious, easily digested and completely tasteless. As if it was not sufficient for a soldier to lay down his life at every step of his duty, he had to do so on the blandest food ever created in the history of mankind – gruel.

Magadhan forces issued small cloth pouches of barley and rye that were supposed to be mixed with water to make a thin porridge. No doubt they added some other herbs and roots to make the soldiers more alert and stronger. Taste was never a consideration in such matters. The only consolation were small compressed pads of rice that I bet Shani had sneaked in with his medical kit. One of the benefits of being a scout was knowing which edible plants could make a meal more palatable and between the four of us, we had scrounged enough basil to make it so.

No sooner had we sat down to eat that Rahu started to draw lines in the earth with a stick. I paid no attention to it thinking it as a form of amusement of the silent leader, until Ketu pitched in too while drinking his bowl of gruel. Both would occasionally look to Shani and he would nod to confirm something or the other. Over time, slowly, our meals disappeared and a small clay model of the entire pass was before me.

Red threads waved over the model to show enemy Dwarkan patrols over the mountain range while blue threads marked the Magadhan patrol routes.

“We are here”, the first words I had ever heard from Rahu came out. The other two kept their focus on the model as if their leader had not broken their covenant of silence for my sake. If I had not gone through the same treatment with Rudra, I would not have been able to suppress the shock on my face.

I saw that they were all looking at outpost marked on the model as Rahu continued with the briefing.

“We will have to pass through 2 defensive layers to enter Dwarka. The first is a massive bunker on the other end of the pass, similar to our own here. From there, Dwarka maintains direct visual oversight of the passage. Plus, there are patrols to deal with. Those go out at regular intervals but the pattern is not known to anyone, not even their own scouts.”

The red lines crisscrossed in such a way that even spiders could not have made a more complex web. The longer I kept staring at the pattern, the more impassable it became. The frontlines alone were ridiculously difficult to cross and then, there was another half a day’s walk to the coastline.

“It is _our_ job to get you through the lines and we will”, Rahu spoke up and I could see the determination in his eyes. “It takes an hour to cross our side of the pass and another three to traverse the no man’s land. Once their outpost is in sight, the four of us will split up. We three will head north-east from their border and no doubt, we will run into their patrols.”

Looking up to his two companions, who obviously knew the weight of what was being asked of them, he stressed the words, “Once in sight, we run! Run as fast as possible back to our lines and make as much noise as possible. We want at least two of their squads behind us to create a big enough opening for Ruksh to slip through their perimeter undetected. With any luck, they will suspect it as one of our usual attempts at probing their defenses so they likely will not pursue us any further. However, from that moment on, Ruksh, you will be on your own.”

It finally dawned on me why these three had not resented their use as bait, for they knew that I had a far more difficult task ahead.

“I know that Commanders Satyaki and Kritaverma defend this area, Ruksh”, a heavy voice came from Shani, “We have orders to flee on sight if we ever encounter them. I suggest you do the same. Do _not_ engage them in battle!”

This came as no surprise as it was usually the case for the frontline troops, especially scouts. No ordinary scout could face the kind of celestial weapons these rathis could throw around.

The rest of the evening was buried in a final check of our weapons and supplies. I had my doubled spear and a light travel pack purchased from a mutual trader of Magadha and Dwarka. The same merchant had also furnished me with a spare set of clothes and some of the local coinage used in Dwarka. Faking my way as a priest had gotten me enough trouble in Rajagriha. Something told me repeating this would only anger the priests back there even if I did bring a sacred cow.

I wished I had been allowed to carry copies of the extensive profiles Hiranyadanush had compiled on the prominent traders and chieftains in Dwarka. The small crash course he had given me to memorize instead would have to be enough. In the event I ran into a security patrol, I could rant off a few important names that hopefully had some political clout to scare them into letting me go.

It was a difficult night with the anticipation of the danger to come but Shani had a concoction ready; a strange herbal tea that could induce a light sleep. We took turns keeping watch but with enough breaks to get a decent amount of rest needed for the next day’s efforts.

The next day began late in the evening for us, to maximize the use of the setting sun and the coming darkness of the night. Ketu had spent the better part of the day scouting ahead and keeping a tab on the enemy movements. By the time we set out and reached him, dusk had already fallen. He had timed the patrols enough to guess when the next one would be arriving and it would be the one the three would try to divert. Our tasks were now clear.

There were no words or grand gestures. Our short time together had begun with the understanding that they were bait to hang the even bigger bait which was me. Impending death usually put a damper on camaraderie in favor of terror and all of us knew how to turn terror into focus. Our minds knew only of what lay ahead for us and it was absolute danger.

I had lost count of the number of times I had come to such turns in the last few weeks of my life. I should have felt afraid, even terrified. I was heading into the jaws of death; home of the sworn enemies of my master and defended by the deadliest army known to man. Yet somehow, there was only calm in my heart. It was as if I was getting used to the calamity falling on me or I knew that the answers I needed lay ahead of me.

I remember wondering if I really was going crazy before marching into the pass.


	19. The Crossing

“I can make out two of them.”

“Just two?”

“Only two.”

“Then they are only bait. The rest of the patrol is behind them waiting for a signal. We have what we need”

I could imagine the conversation to sound like that had the three men in front of men been talking at all. Hand signals made for quick but lousy conversation. The flurry of hand movements in the waning light made it difficult to decipher what was being said but I was sure there were some mentions of dumping me and making a run for it. Granted, that was basically the gist of the mission but they certainly made it sound like I was trash to be thrown away in someone else’s house without dirtying their own.

The four of us had set out almost two hours ago just before dusk had started to fall. Birds were returning to their nests. The last rays of sunlight were giving way to the darkness of the night once again. We were just invisible enough to go about secretly and still make out our surroundings without torches.

A hand patted me on the shoulder and Keu, the elder guide, was behind me under a makeshift blanket of leaves. Two massive leafy shapes behind him were my other two escorts, Rahu and Shani. He handed me a similar blanket and we slowly slithered over to a small ridge. 

This was the last of the natural hiding spots in the boundary between the two kingdoms. After this, a small stretch of flat grassland acted as no-man’s land. Both kingdoms had actively kept it so to make sure no one could sneak in unannounced. It was somewhat amusing that two bitter enemies hated each other so much that they would actually work together to create a secure border between them.

The dense forests on our own side had been crawling with Magadhan patrols but knowing their pattern, they were easy enough to avoid. Our task was to be completed under utmost secrecy by the king himself. I doubted a common border patrol could keep its mouth shut about escorting an important spy over the border; something they were actually supposed to prevent. The trickiest part lied in crossing over to the other side. There were no doubt traps of a nasty and assorted variety lying all over the gap. 

Rahu took the lead with me slithering under our leafy camouflage with me behind him and Ketu guarding our rear. Shani took up position on the ridge with a notched arrow in his bow, ready to fire on any who spotted us.

Rather than go in a straight line, Rahu deviated every thirty paces or so to avoid the traps planted by our own side. The rest involved a great deal of carefully feeling for disturbed earth and quite literally, blind faith. We barely missed a claw springing up from the ground, a pit full of what sounded like hissing snakes and some kind of metallic grass with bells on them that would have rung at the slightest disturbance. Fortunately, I had enough experience between Rudra’s training and Rajagriha’s forests to be particularly surprised here.

The thick forest lay before us after almost an hour and three very weary men soaked in mud crawled out of their leafy covers ever so stealthily. We were late, the traps having taken longer than expected to bypass. Dwarkan patrols would soon be upon us or may even be in the immediate vicinity. I had no time to lose.

There were no words of farewell between my companions and I. A simple nod was all I received as Rahu and Ketu took up their bows and arrows and took off to the north. As the backs of my fleeting friends disappeared in the brush, I became alone yet again, in a strange land and facing even stranger challenges. 

The plan had been drilled into my head a thousand times. Countless hours I had spent poring over maps and intelligence reports. I could identify the entire military, political and mercantile leaders of the people whose home I was standing in right now. Right on top of a very volatile border teeming with enemy patrols who would likely slit my throat on the mere suspicion of espionage.

I made my way through the bushes cautiously looking out for signs of humans when I heard the shrieks. Loud shouting and a small yellow haze grew in the horizon to the north. No doubt Dwarkan search parties searching for my companions with fire and bared steel. By the sounds of it, my friends had gone for a less than subtle approach to complete their objective. Saying a quick prayer for their safety, I picked up my own pace southward to reach the coastline at the earliest. For if not, I would have say a few prayers for my neck.

The forest was as dense as before but now, it was as if every perched owl’s hoot, every hiss of a hidden snake, even the rushing of the leaves in the wind was out to get me. It was a heightened sense of fear. It was not that the trees were less green here or the animals more deadly. Only that this feeling that this was Dwarkan land and so every creature here, no matter how it breathed or moved, was Dwarkan. And so, things that were natural to me before seemed unnatural now. Even the trees creaking in the wind seemed to growl at my intrusion, not merely bending to a natural force. I was among hostiles even if they did not know it yet.

It was not long before the moonlight revealed some beaten paths, no matter how well someone had tried to cover them up. I tracked the path parallel among the trees and soon came upon the bunker that I had briefed on. It was a monstrosity, all right, a massive barrow covered in grass and trees except for a single oval opening. Though hard to make out, smaller bush lines ringed the mound in patterns that were just a little too unnatural. If anything, they were likely openings for archers to fire volleys on enemies. It was a good thing I had chosen a nighttime for my entrance, for those eyes in this hill would surely have caught me in the day. 

Thoughts of the day reminded me that daylight was but a few hours away. Soon, a rider would return from the frontline to the bunker and another would be sent out with news of my team’s attempts to the coast. 

Bypassing the fortress was difficult but not impossible. There was usually one key factor that helped. Overconfidence. Any man sitting in such a large and fortified structure usually expected a large force to be actually worried. Such thinking made one just complacent enough for a man like me to slip by undetected.  
I skirted the outer perimeter of the bunker’s line of sight, which was not easy considering the fortress’ commander apparently knew of the same limits. I counted three teams of rotating sentries within sight of each other and maintain constant vigil for someone trying to avoid the bunker through the pass.  
Going through the options, I counted the probabilities. 

Take out one of them, create an opening in perimeter? – high chance of detection by surrounding soldiers…  
Try to skirt through? – Probable, but delaying with high chance of missing the trade caravan to the city…  
Go up to them and ask them to let me through? – Low chance but good last resort.

No sooner had I finished racking my brain when a flurry of activity from the bunker drew the attention of the sentries. Riders were pouring in from several directions carrying more than a few injuries. I saw one man limping while keeping his arm close. The man escorting him on horseback issued hurried orders for a medical kit and rushed back to the borderline as soon as he was handed one.

Exactly what had those three done behind my back?

While my curiosity yearned to learn this, better senses prevailed and I used the momentary confusion in the defender’s attentions to dash past their perimeter. The rustling of the bushes and the noises from my sudden movements would have no doubt been covered by the activity at their gates.

From what I had been told, an hour’s steady walk would bring me to a coastal path often frequented by trade caravans seeking to board the coastal barges bound for Dwaraka. It would be no surprise if a lone traveler made his way on it looking for passage to the city as well. The trick was to get to the merchant lanes and the port in time before a security net was cast. 

As luck would have it, and it was quite rare in my case, cart tracks soon began to appear in the countryside. The more well traveled paths with their beaten grasses and trampled soil joined to a more solid road. The ocean was within my sight when a cacophony of cattle and human singing soon drew my attention. 

A small caravan of a dozen carts with a small flood of cows came grazing past me. The surroundings, previously green, became swollen with hues of black, brown and white as the cattle was herded along the path. 

“Ho there!”

The call came from somewhere among the bovine sea and a tall man perched on top of the leading cart waved to me. Beside him, drovers on horseback came whooping along both sides of the herd, no doubt herding along and keeping an eye out for strays.

“Where to, strangers?”, I asked.

The man chuckled, “Where else but to Dwarka, young man! Are you for the coast as well?”

I nodded with a courteous wave and tried to hide along this sudden tide of man and beast but was soon crowded with people running from the caravan. Before I knew it, a giant hand grasped my back and I was sitting in one of the open carts with about five men. Some of them slapped on my back as they joked and offered me fruits they had picked along the way. Others were more interested of news I may have had to offer.

“You came from the western route, did you not? Over the mountains…”

“Are you from Hastinapur? What say of the Kurus?”

“Any news of this new city in Khandava? I heard it’s a marvel to look but I always say new construction is shoddy these days. Now the old cities were something, alright...”

I passed myself off as a farm hand on an errand from my master in Vanga. I figured it would give me some kind of credible story with the locals here. But hearing of my old home gave some of the men pause.

“Vanga? That’s quite a long walk. What news of Magadha, then? You must have stopped there on the way here”, asked an inquisitive old man while offering me a mango.

It was an expected question; one I had been prepared to answer, but not to some ancient man who probably could not remember where Vanga was.

“Oh, quite a walk, indeed. I’m afraid my stay in Magadha was just for a night. But if you have seen one city, you have seen them all. Big, crowded and foul smelling.” I forced a chucke and the others laughed with me too. Except for the old man.

“Aye, that is true. But not this new city in Khandava. The Pandava princes have built a city fit for Lord Indra or so the saying goes, I hear. They are offering 10 gold pieces and a pair of cattle to any farmer willing to relocate to their kingdom”, he droned on. A few eyelids rose from the group but most were busy with their own meals. 

The leader, who had waved to me before, peaked over the cart’s canopy and laughed, “Entertaining our newest guest, eh father? Well, don’t take him too seriously, lad. You might end up running off in the wild in search of golden palaces.” A round of laughter took the old man’s gaze off of me as he turned to converse with one of the drovers riding alongside us. 

I jumped back out of the cart and ran up to the leader who was busy with the reins and sending out riders to look for the odd calf or two straying away. 

“Ah, hello there again, young man. I trust my father was not too boring. He believes every story that comes out of anyone’s mouth. My name is Shivi.”

“Well met, Shivi. My name is Ruksh. And your father is wise. It was a pleasure to meet him.”

“Hahaha. Well you’re the first in a long time. So what brings you to Dwarka?”, he asked.

“Just looking for work. My old master fell ill and sold his farm to a cousin with one too many sons. He had no need for extra farm hands. The old man left me some money which did not sit well with his heir and I found it best to leave town. Luckily, he has a friend in Dwarka who might have some work for me.”

That speech had been practiced so thoroughly, I almost believed it myself.

Shivi shook his head but reassured me, “Well, there is work aplenty in Dwarka. No thanks to foolish men prattling on about free gold and cattle. Many artisans and farmers from every city have left behind good lives for some imaginary paradise in that snake infested swamp! But not me, I tell you. I am a Yadu man, through and through. We did not survive Kansa’s tyrrany, Jarasandha’s legions and even Lord Indra’s thunder just to leave home now.”

Something about this raised a fear in my mind. This man was good, but he was basically talking about surviving against the likes of me. Luckily, riders came back with a patrol in tail, stopping the caravan and our conversation in its tracks. The leader, at the foremost among his patrol, came up to Shivi and shook his hand.

“Good seeing you again, Shivi! A fine stock you have here. Any trouble along the path?”

Shivi gave a signal and the caravan resumed its pace, “None, my friend. Business is good. Traders from Gandhara and Hastinapur are always on the lookout for fine cattle. They practically go out of their way to see to our comfort. You?”

A sudden crease appeared in the leader’s forehead, “We had a little excitement last night. Magadhan patrols up to their usual tricks. Almost lit up half the forest last night. Seven hells, your cousin was howling at us all night looking for any stragglers. All I am looking forward to right now is a warm meal and a comfy bed back at the barracks.”

Laughing, Shivi shook his head, “Well, that is Kritaverma for you. Never does anything halfway, even if it means driving half his men insane. How is he?”

The soldier shrugged, ”Ask him yourself. He is waiting for you on the barge up ahead.”

It slowly dawned on me that I was going to be travelling on the same boat as one of the most fearsome commanders of Dwaraka. So much for staying away from danger….

Hiding my face and my spear as best as I could, I dissolved back into the crowed trailing the bullock carts. 

The dirt road became more and more well laid with proper cobblestones and stonework as we rode into a small complex. People from southern and western routes were soon mingling with our own, and the kids pestering me with curious stares found other people to stare at.

From first appearance, it was a decent port. It was as if someone had gone out of their way to make the friendliest city imaginable. Inns and warehouses dotted the streets, ready to service merchants and sailors alike. Travelers lined up outside the booths offering passage on ships to places I had never even heard of. Some were using the confusion to offer their services as translators. The crowds were full of soldiers, merchants, farmers, sailors, and priests; all mingling together in laughter and insults. It was utter chaos, but with an odd positive energy to it. Like the excitement of a newborn, waiting to burst forth into the world.

Somewhere, one man was rebuking a man who was relieving himself on a wall,  
“Someday, I will find the man who had the bright idea of building a tavern full of drunk sailors right next to my house and thank him with my fist.”

Another turn and I ran into a buzzing market,  
“What do you mean, only 300? This horse is worth twice as much!”  
“Not after spending two weeks on a ship, it’s not. All the muscle is lost now, it’s hardly worthy of running in the chariot races.”

A right turn and rows of monks were holding out bowls while engaged in a spirited discussion,  
“Of course, I told my master. Sage Agastya’s treatise was very clear on the components of the vapors…Thank you, kind sir… Please spare some alms for the needy.”

The rows seemed endless and the sign posts had been revised so many times, no one seemed to bother anymore on updating them. Despite the chaos, order was somehow maintained. Patrols were posted on every block, policing the areas vigilantly. Workers were busy maintaining public wells and buildings at the slightest hint of damage. Everyone followed some kind of invisible code to maintain law and order.

It was one thing to respect law and order. It was quite another when it began hunting you as a threat. My immediate concern was to find the last barge bound for the city and get on it. Even one night in this port was one too many.

“Hey there, Ruksh. Over here!”

Sitting on a gallery overlooking a street, Shivi, waved me over. I would have preferred to avoid him and his cousin but the captain, standing next to him, gave one word and a burly patrolman cleared a way through the crowds.

The building was a warehouse, specializing in cattle, where rows of animals were being inspected by merchants prior to purchase. 

“Ah, my friend. I thought I had lost you on the way in. My partner just told me he is need for good farmhands. That reminded me of you when you told me you were looking for work as well.”

Shivi appeared positively chipper, having made the match for me. If only he knew what exactly was going on in my head at the time, he might not have been so eager to set me up with jobs.

Being a giant must have been a prerequisite in the cattle raising business since Shivi’s partner was almost as tall as Shivi. Both were muscular hulks, laughing as they traded old jokes and argued on whose parties should take priority for boarding the barge.

The man extended an arm in greeting towards me, “Any friend of Shivi is a friend of mine. So, you come from Vanga in search of work?”  
I nodded hastily as I freed my hand of his iron grip. Either this man did not his own strength or I would have to start greeting people here with more care if I wanted to keep my bones unbroken.

Shivi rested his arms on both of our shoulders with a laugh, “I knew you two would hit it off. Ruksh, this is Aajiv, my neighbor in Dwaraka. Together, we have raised many fine heads of cattle. Why, I have heard that the milk from my farm is almost as good as that from the Kamadhenu herd.”

The mention of the sacred creatures grasped my attention. Aajiv and Shivi were still buried in their gossip as they supervised the last of their cargo led towards the harbor. My mind, however, was already pacing on roads other than the one leading to the harbor.

“Come on, Ruksh, the last boat is about to leave for the day. You can ride with us”, Aajiv grabbed me by the arm as the two men led me on.

The port had a dedicated lanes between the ships and surrounding buildings. We made good time navigating the crowds as the ship masts appeared in sight. It was puzzling to see how such large cattle herds and men could fit on a single boat but puzzlement turned to wonder when I saw the boat.

Calling this ship a barge was like calling Rajagriha a village. It was a massive construct, with three levels, and almost a hundred windows on each side of every level. The ramps from the harbor split off to each of the levels, the lowest reserved for cattle while the middle was reserved for military personnel. The highest was for civilians.

We made our way to the designated ramps and quickly, an attendant, saw us to benches where our party had been reserved a small section. Someone had seen the expression on my face and told everyone, for Shivi took one look at me and smirked,

“Your first time on the barge, Ruksh? Quite something, is it not? Wait till you see the city. It is even more magnificent than this rickety boat. We should be there in two hours or so.”

Curiosity rose within me, “Is it not impractical for a city to be cut off from the mainland? How do you all grow crops or even feed your cattle?”

It must have been a rather commonly asked question for many within earshot laughed. 

“Aye, every newcomer asks this of us”, sighed Aajiv and continued as if lecturing a small child, “Dwaraka was raised from the sea. Our soil is quite fertile because of that. We have enough farmland over there to feed every man, woman, child and beast on the island ten times over.”

Even Shivi jumped in on the lecture, “And who says this is impractical? We left the mainland because of Jarasandha’s armies making a mess of our lives. We’d rather travel in boats for a little while than risk getting our city burnt to the ground. Plus, this barge is only one of many. They can be interconnected to make a bridge directly connecting us to mainland if need be.”

A makeshift bridge?! I bet Hiranyadanush would have killed for that piece of information. He always wondered how Dwarakan armies reinforced their coastal defenses so quickly.

My questions were only beginning when a soldier came down and passed a note to Shivi. Whatever it said, it raised the giant’s eyes as he sent a message back with eagerness.

“My cousin wants to meet me downstairs. Aajiv, can you take care of our people here. I should not keep him waiting.”

He trailed off as Aajiv and the rest of our party resumed the gossip. The shipmaster made the last call before casting off the moor with a jerk. The slow motion of the boat created some odd sensation in my belly. The taste of the half eaten apple from ages ago resurface in the back of my throat.

A kid saw my face and two hands quickly shoved my face outside a window. 

“First time is often rough. Takes a few trips to get your sea legs. Just remember this; Hurl away from the boat and you should be fine.”

One of the herders starting distributing dry wheat cakes and surprisingly, my stomach calmed down a bit. Another man started playing a flute and soon, a merry band of men were entertaining the ship with their music. Time flew by and I picked up a few tidbits among the gossip. 

Apparently, there was some discontent among the clans within the island city. Some favored more isolation while other wanted more involvement with neighboring kingdoms, particularly the Kurus. It may have seemed like idle banter but it did not take long for mere talk giving way to major civil unrest. I had the strange feeling that some invisible force was putting a damper on the more aggressive minds in the group. Whatever it was or whenever this strange influence receded, I had no doubt this dancing band of villagers would tear each other apart.

I sat there listening to the group; gathering anything about sacred cows from their mundane gossip. Nothing of import had been said so far but I gleaned enough to ruin more than a few marriages. The rocking of the boat was still weighing heavily on my stomach. 

Leaning against a wooden railing, the people went about their business. Rather than cooped up like the cattle below, more than a few men chose to stretch their legs on the galleries outside. Then again, some ventured purely to catch the occasional glimpse of the fabled sea nymphs who, depending on their mood, could guide ships to ports or a watery grave among the depths. Some women rose up from behind the wooden curtain wall to give offerings to the divine sea spirits for a safe passage. Trailing behind them, the children thought little of divinity and more of their own play. 

“You would think that after so many defeats, Jarasandha would learn his place. But no, he sends his miscreants again and again to ruin our sleep.”

The words caught me by surprise. Walking behind me was a man whom I had hoped never to meet. Kritaverma looked every inch a soldier, a man whom old Rudra himself would have declared the perfect ideal for every cadet to embody. A gruff man, he had a face pocked with scars. He wore a leather vest tanned with a deep green hue with matching greaves and gauntlets. A longbow hung on his back along with a quiver. To match his already deadly arrows, a belt of short throwing knives along with a curved sword hung at his hip.

“I would pay my respects to my uncle, Shivi. Where is he?”, he asked, ignoring the spy from Magadha standing ten paces from him.

“Aye, you would be a welcome sight to my father. There is not a day that goes by when he does not mourn that likes of the Satyaki and Kritaverma were not born in his house…haha”, mused Shivi.

The name of Satyaki darkened the already grim face on Kritaverma. “Satyaki and his ilk have not been seen in Dwaraka ever since they left for Indraprastha. I don’t know about your father, cousin, but there are not many among the city who speak as highly of them as they used to.”

When a questioning expression drew on Shivi’s face, it was avoided with a sudden engaging of Shivi’s father in usual banter.  
It was strange to see that the city of gods, abode of the Avatar and his almighty clan, home of the nigh-invincible Narayani army was filled with such....well, human people. From the stories, the people here were supposed to be powerful god-fearing embodiments of purity. Not jealous young lovers and bitter old men.

The presence of the commander drew the attention of numerous passengers. Some were eager traders hoping to secure escorts for their caravans while others were old acquaintances seeking to greet him.

The commander was rescued from the throng by one of his men arriving with an urgency of some sort. With a quick series of greetings, the commander left for the military level, leaving a number of men behind him wondering if the matter had something to with the current voyage.

Shivi and Aajiv, meanwhile, regrouped and walked along the gallery. I was curious to learn what Kritaverma had to say about the raid and so, I kept a steady pace behind them within earshot.

“Seems like Magadhan raiding parties again. To three hells with Jarasandha. Will he never leave us in peace?”, Aajiv cursed.

Shivi nodded, “Yes…from what I gathered, a small group tried to sneak past the fortress at Kelava pass last night. When they were discovered, they lit up a massive fire to cover their escape. Damned bastards would have nearly burnt half the forest to the ground had not my cousin used a rainstorm astra.”

It cheered my heart to know that my three companions had made it back safely to their post. I suspected those stakes Rahu had planted in the no man’s land had contained some form of flammable oil, despite their orders to the contrary. The greater relief was that Dwarakan army suspected only three interlopers. It meant that for a short while, there were no spy hunters looking for me. I certainly could not afford to breathe easy while I was here but it was a reprieve nonetheless. 

I had begun to adjust to the rhythm of the boat when Aajiv gathered a number of men from our group to relieve the caretakers who had escorted the cattle in the decks below.  
“Alright, I want five men to go below and relieve the previous team. The port is within sight and I have arranged for our herds to be disembarked first. Ashvin! Gehenn! I want you two to see to the rest of the lads”

Two of the herdsmen, whom the rest of the group seemed to defer to, bowed and started giving out individual assignments. Aajiv, beaming with pride at his men, looked to his other charges, then suddenly turned around and shouted to one of his subordinates.

“Oh, and Ashvin! See to the quartermaster, Mudrak, on the middle deck when you have time. I asked him to give you some pointers for the trials!”

In response, a few of the men around me talked of Ashvin’s chances in some kind of trial. Rather than press the issue with Ashvin, I sought out a more familiar source of information.

Shivi’s father, Visoka, was happy to speak as long as someone was willing to give him companionship. And I was more than up to the task. My fellow passengers took me for a kind young man indulging an elder. I saw it as a golden source who could tell me everything I wanted to know about Dwaraka.

I had but to mention the strange trials when the old man launched into a strange tale.

“Every year, the sacred Kamadhenu herd chooses new guardians. Chosen for their experience and skill, they must know how to care for their sacred duties as well as be able to defend them when the time comes.”

It was not long before the other elders sitting around us started filling in the gaps left by Visoka’s lectures.

“My nephew was in the army. He spent two years learning on a farm before he was allowed to participate.”

“Aye, I would have become a guardian too but I took an arrow in the knee.”

“I heard the trials are changed every year. Last year, it was a war game where men had to fight past a hundred warriors.”

“Maybe they should spend a day with my mother-in-law. Now that is a trial!”

Very soon, the conversation degenerated into a squabbling argument between old men. They fought on moot points; whose son was most qualified or whose clan had the greater herds or which trials were the toughest. I listened intently, playing the part of the curious traveler, and soaking up every detail they let slip from their wagging tongues. By the time they were done, I had offers from seven farms for work and three personal invitations to show me around the city.

A shout came out from the front and children rushed to there. The older men and women mused over the young ones’ excitement while many passengers, including myself, sought the source of the commotion.

On the far horizon, a faint light emanated amid tall spires. The city of Dwaraka was finally within my reach.


	20. Dwaraka

The Gateway to Heaven.

A City Fit for Gods.

Crown jewel of the Yadava Dynasty.

Home of the Invincible Narayani Armies.

Eternal Symbol of Resistance against Tyranny.

Shining Beacon of Knowledge and Prosperity.

And last known location of countless Magadha spies…the latest being me.

Dwaraka was known by many names but the last one was probably one that concerned me at the moment.

As I drew closer to island, a disturbing presence stirred within me. I could feel something looking within my soul. A foreign sensation, not unlike the Presence, with whom I had come to a mental understanding. I took in the new sights like a tiger taking stock of his new hunting grounds…or a beetle admiring the flytrap before it closed shut.

The denizens of this city were like those from any other city. From the ones I had met on the barge, they were as human in their bodies and characters as I was. Mischievous kids, passionate youth, troubled adults and complaining old men. Same as everywhere. But the city itself was something else.

Even from afar, Dwaraka did not look like other cities. It was a strange island to say the least. Whatever this place was, it was like someone or something was purposely maintaining the city for its people. The island had been raised by magic, or the story went. It would not be an exaggeration for such a massive spell to leave behind some form of protective remnant. The passengers joked and laughed as if they had not spent the last few hours complaining and arguing against each other. Beasts, normally afraid of strange lands, struggled against their handlers in eagerness to run free on the island’s pastures. A wave of relief and peace descended upon my mind; a bit like the times I had accidentally partaken in some of Meru’s hidden ‘special medicinal tonics’. It was like I was intoxicated on a pure feeling of peace and joy…

_I am calm. I am in peace._

A wave of relief passed over me. I had never felt better in ages.

_I will do my best for my fellow man. I will follow the way of Dharma._

Resignation took over. I was a warrior, here on Jarasandha’s command. I meant to do these people harm. The part of me that had rationalized my actions so far was nowhere to hold me in check.

_I should not wish harm on these innocents. I should reveal my truth. I should save these people._

Sorrow welled up inside me. Something had released a floodgate of remorse and guilt within me. I grasped the nearest support, crumbling on my knees and curling up like the times I received horrendous beatings in Rudra’s training arena. The torrent of grief was unimaginable. Tears welled up as I imagined Jarasandha burning such a beautiful city to the ground if his ritual was successful. I _had_ to stop him. I had to stop _myself_.

And yet, what would happen to Meru? To Neel? Even that gruff old Rudra had been kind to me. The Presence, long slumbering, reached out and pain shot through me. I trembled in pain and doubled over, collapsing where I stood. Most men who passed by, probably mistook this as a bad case of sea sickness.

_NO! I will not fail Meru! I will not fail Neel! I will return that knife to Rudra! I will save my friends!_

I did not know how but two entities were fighting in my head. The Presence was obviously angry at someone else making me miserable for a change. At any other time, it would have been amusing to know that even sadistic brain demons were so territorial of their victims. No matter what the fighting may have done to my mind, it still gave me some clarity. For one thing, I was not nearly as loopy as I was a few moments ago. Though my brain would probably end up as soup one of these days, it would not betray me at least today.

And then it hit me. Whatever this strange entity was, it sought to lower my mental defenses. It had recognized me for who I was and made me feel just relaxed enough to do something stupid enough to give myself away.

Picking myself up, I looked around and none seemed wiser. My earlier episode must have led others to believe that I had suffered another bout of sea sickness, albeit the worst case on record. The ship’s crew gave me some water and more dry wheat cakes, if only to make sure I did not mess up their pristine deck.

I was still wondering exactly what it was that had happened when another man at the front of the ship keeled over. Instead of doubling over, he ran to the nearest soldier and fell to his feet, sobbing and wailing unimaginably.

“Please! Please, make it stop! The voices! What is happening to me?!”

The soldiers looked to each other and quickly rushed him below decks citing a need for medical treatment. It must have a usual occurrence for none of the regular travelers batted an eye. Foreigners, like me, who should have been stunned, acted like it was a common occurrence. Most were rather focused on the approaching city. One look at the city and I knew why.

I thought Rajagriha was something. But this place made the Magadhan capital look primitive. Rajagriha’s design had focused on controlling the flow of people. Layers of walls kept everything organized. Even a blind and deaf man could feel the constricting discipline there. It was not bad but like many old cities, they often buried themselves under traditions and customs. Instead, Dwaraka was like a gust of fresh air. The city was well planned, similar to Rajagriha in its special zones. The main distinction, however, was the lack of segregation of any sort. Merchants mingled with soldiers while farmers traded with priests. There was an excitement in the air; the zeal and innocent curiosity of a newborn yearning to discover the world coursed through the people here. Men walked with urgency out of a desire to grow and prosper, not out of fear of local tax collectors or imperial recruiters hunting for conscripts. The most distinct feature, though, was the perfumed scent wafting everywhere.

Any settlement, whether it was a capital cities or small hamlets, always gave off an odd stench. A city could be known for its thriving trade, impregnable defenses, grand libraries or even fabulous food. But one thing it could never escape was its disgusting smell. Humans, after all, were nasty creatures. And they gave away their nature often by their smell. It was an embarrassingly universal feature in almost all human settlements. And yet, here in Dwaraka, the air was pure. There was not a temple in sight and still, a faint whiff of incense and flowers tickled my nose.

It all seemed extremely unnatural. Cities did not smell like perfume and such open designs were a recipe for future chaos. Someone or something had to maintain the order here. I suspected it was the same silent force that had disturbed my mind recently.

The view had distracted me enough before I heard the boatmaster’s signal to prepare for disembarking. Whatever that strange episode had been, it was clearly only disturbing to me. The rest of the people on the boat were either oblivious, apathetic or immune to this strange magic.

I was still wondering this when the man who had confessed to hearing voices aloud, returned to the deck. He joked with friends about sea sickness and the like, leaving me even more confused. How could a man be shouting at the top of his lungs while hallucinating and be perfectly fine a few moments later?

Before I could investigate further, a shout came from above. The boatmaster signaled the passengers to prepare for disembarking.

Visoka sat staring off to the horizon while the rest of his elderly group yelled at their youngers to assist them. Someone between the cacophony of people eager to get back to land and cattle sensing freedom from their pens, boatworkers tried to create some semblance of an olderly line. Of course, their efforts were in vain as the workers themselves were jostled out of their perches.

Amid the ruckus, I felt a sharp prick to my side. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a soldier with a hidden face. The hold on my sides was firm and a pair of emerald green eyes turned toward me. Before I could react, a voice whispered in my ear.

“Don’t turn! Keep smiling and don’t say another word. Just listen. Right now, a small needle is pressed against your side. I need only push in a little more and a very nasty venom will enter your heart.”

It was not the fear or the urgency that I regretted later. From the moment I had set out for Dwaraka, I knew that my fate would likely include an execution at the hands of my enemies. It was oddly comforting idea once I took my likely fate for granted.

What knawed at my pride instead was that I had been caught off-guard. Impossible as it may have been, I should have avoided such close quarters and giving my opponent such an opportunity. I knew of the weapon I was being threatened with. Hell, I had raised the very cobras the venom had likely been harvested from. A single snake bite could topple a fully grown elephant into lunch for jackals. The man, or the bastard who sounded like a man, had me at decisive disadvantage. He slowly led me back onto the emptying quarters while the people departed from the ship.

“Slowly, now. No sudden movements. You wouldn’t want me to accidentally prick you now, would you? Not when you are being so cooperative.”

We entered a small room on the far edge of the boat, with lingering smells of the people who had inhabited it until very recently.

“I will release my hold on the needle and you will sit down on the floor but know that you are outnumbered and without hope of escape”

I could feel the grip on my shoulders loosen but the prickly sensation ever present. Complying with my captor, I was on my knees. He bound my feet and hands behind my back and a blindfold came over my eyes. The thuds of footsteps came after.

“Very well done, Nandini. Once off the ship, it would have been a nightmare tracking him down. Did he give you any trouble?”

I recognized the deep grim voice of Kritaverma. How had he recognized me? I suspected it was the strange magic that had menaced my thoughts a short while ago was the culprit. To top it off, my captor had been a woman or a man with a really effeminate name.

The blindfold came off and the Dwarakan commander was sitting before me. Soldiers stood by him, spears drawn at my throat. My bindings were as tight as ever though the needle had been removed from my side. The general held his gaze against my own. I had not seen him so close before. He was young, barely older than me by a decade. Yet he had the familiar distaste I had seen worn on men like Hiranyadanush or Rudra. Now, his dark black eyes and sneer filled with contempt, took stock of the enemy bound before him. There would be no mercy for the enemy. No mercy for me.

“So, Ruksh, is it? One of my men saw you fall down before. We just wanted to see if you were alright. My cousin tells me you come from Vanga searching for work.”

One of the soldiers ungagged me and I intoned my practiced speech, “Yes, my lord. Please. I do not know what offense I have given but I am innocent. I am but a poor man. My master sent me here to make a living. Please, I can serve Dwaraka. I am a good farmer. Please, sir, let me go.”

The playwrights back in the village would have been proud of my acting. Plus, the spear pointed at my head helped make the fear in my voice sound more genuine.

 Kritaverma listened intently with a bored face, “Yes, yes. I’ve heard that before. So how is it that your master sent you to Dwaraka just to plough fields? I mean you must have passed through almost a dozen kingdoms, a thousand farms desperate for good help and yet, you come here. If I were to believe my uncle, you could get 20 gold pieces and a pair of oxen in Indraprastha alone just to till the land.”

I mentioned my contact here in Dwaraka. Mithra was a rather small merchant but well known for setting up investments in business all over the land. He had grudgingly agreed to be part of my cover when he was told his tax rate in Magadha-affiliated territories would go up significantly unless he provided some mild assistance for a new friend named Ruksh.

“Ah yes, Mithra. That jackal would vouch for a snake and call it a mongoose if he stood to make money out of it. I really hope you did not come all this way just on his word”. Kritaverma gave me a look of pity, knowing his quarry had trapped himself in a corner. Apparently, that sleazy trader had exaggerated his renown a bit. He must have figured that Magadha would not hold him responsible if another of its long line of spies ended up executed by Dwaraka, given how little the chance of infiltrating this place was.

“Please, my lord. My master owed Mithra some money and died before he could repay it. His children were not too keen on inheriting their father’s debt so they sent me here to work it off in his fields.”

It was a tragic tale, crafted to elicit sympathy from those who would hear it. And I was being held by the one man without any. He joked and the soldiers around me gave uneasy smiles in support.

“Oh ho ho ho ho…Very good. Very good indeed. You tell your story very well. If it were anyone but me, you would probably have gotten away too. But you made one very little, very serious mistake. You really should not blame yourself, either. You couldn’t have known about the magic guarding us. So, Ruksh of Vanga, indentured farmhand to Mithra, how about you tell me the truth this one last time and I’ll see to it you die without too much pain.”

He took out one of his throwing knives and kept it at levelled at my throat. A small nick and I winced as some blood leaked from the small cut the knife made. All the man had to do was push it a little deeper and I would be dead. I held my tongue, sure that if I betrayed my mission, Meru and Rudra would undoubtedly pay for it.

I could feel the knife slowly pushing deeper while I did my best to lean away from it. I knew that if I had to use the trump card Hiranyadanush had given me, it would have to be in front of Lord Krishna. Here, it would undoubtedly reach Jarasandha’s ear.

Kritaverma saw me wavering and resigned to die by his hands. A sinister smile escaped his lips and I knew my time had come. Moments from my imminent death, I should have remember my life flash before my eyes, if only I had not faced such moments almost repeatedly by now. Perhaps that is why the next instant saw a sudden relief of pressure on my neck. My eyes opened again and Kritaverma had pocketed his knife, instead speaking with his subordinate with the green eyes.

“Nandini, I’m giving him to you. Go to Mithra and verify if he speaks the truth. In the meantime, put him to work in the deck below. I’m sure the boat crew would be pleased to hear that someone else is cleaning the decks this time.”

Someone undid the bindings behind me and strong hands grabbed me, dragging me along the ship’s corridors. The crew gazed at me, a strange man who until recently was their honored passenger, now reduced to prisoner and forced janitor. Deeper and deeper we went along the stairs until the smell of dung started pervading the air.

Between the rows of soldiers glaring at me, the passengers throwing trash at my face and the cows looking at me as if I owed them hay, I had received a pretty thorough tour of the ship. My options of escape were limited to say the least. There were observers at every level and considering my contact in the city was now compromised, I needed to stay low and plan a new strategy. Perhaps Kritaverma had other plans for me or simply wanted to confirm if I was a threat at all. There must have been a half a dozen people who fell ill from that strange magic and yet, I was the one who was caught.

The soldiers threw me across a door and locked it behind me. A faint low light came from all sides but it was still dark. I was sitting in some kind of slush with a revolting smell. Whatever little morsels I had in my stomach came out as I stood up amidst the little pile of dung I had landed on. A slight curse escaped my lips. It was one thing to indimidate your prisoner but even Jarasandha’s guards had the decency of just killing a man instead of throwing them in mountains of excrement.

“Careful lad. Ill thoughts against others only poison one’s own soul.”

A voice spoke out from from nowhere. I could not see the man properly except when he popped up here and now between the animals. I ignored him and checked my surroundings. One by one, the cows were being led away by workers at the far gates. There, no doubt eager to see their herds, Aajiv and Shivi would be waiting. I wondered if they would wait for me, their new friend whom they had promised their hospitality.

I should have been with them. I should have been feasting on their hospitality as they showed me their glorious city. I should have been halfway through my assigned mission by now. I was so close, and yet caught by a stupid headache, by that fool Mithra, by that bastard Kritaverma and his henchmen…The list of curses in my mind went on and on all the way to Meru.

The sigh I let out must have been pretty loud for the man yelled out again, “Careful lad. Ill thoughts against other only poison one’s own soul.”

I would have added another name to the list if I knew the man who kept bobbing up and down between the leaving tides of cattle. A small barrel of water nearby gave me a chance to clean off the muck I landed in.

“You know, if you are here to clean up, you may want to get started soon. The captain will be down for inspection soon. The soldiers do not like to slip in manure any more than you and I.”

I had had enough of the pointless chatter, “Mind your own business! I am being punished here. What’s it to you if I curse them? What is it to you when I shovel this..this pile of dung those beasts left behind?!”

Angrily, I lifted the shovel before me and started pushing the manure into a chute. A loud laugh echoed in the halls from my new tormentor, “Careful lad. You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar!”

Dryly, I pointed out the opposite, “I can also catch more flies if I am covered in manure. Right now, some vinegar would actually help.” The flies buzzing around me, drawn the excrement had the task before me even more miserable.

“Good point. You know, you seem like a nice lad. A bit angry but alright. Why are you down here?”, the voice called out again.

Keeping my pace, I replied, “A misunderstanding. Your warriors think I am not to be trusted.”

“Should you be?”, the man asked again, “I know Lord Kritaverma. He would never imprison anyone without cause.”

If only to pass the time, I figured this man was worth talking to. The loads of excrement certainly felt lighter if I was angry at something else to occupy my thoughts.

“I fell ill from some strange magic before we docked. Then, Kritaverma thought my employer here was a man of ill repute so I was a threat. He had me arrested while my purpose here is investigated.”

The man intoned, “Our associations are often how other perceive us, lad. More so than our actions. Be wary of the company you keep.”

The man must have been to one too many sermons for he seemed like a font of sagely advice. “What about you? How is it that no one else is helping you?”

A sigh escaped the man too, “Oh…no one was here to help these poor cows so I came down from above to calm them. Even a little while on the sea plays havoc with the little ones; they get scared. It is a thankless job, really, but someone has to do it.”

As much as I knew about Dwarakans, they may have been cattle-loving cowherds but no one could work in such fly infested stinking pits, much less for free. Either the man was crazy or lying or both.

“I am not lying, kid. Serving others is its own reward, especially when the other cannot speak for itself”, the man intoned, “By the way, what is your name, young man?”

“Ruksh…Ruksh of Vanga"

It might have been more polite to ask his name but frankly, I did not care and there must left to do.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ruksh of Vanga. Tell you what, I can help you with these dung piles if you first help me with getting the last of these herds out of here. Some of the calves are hungry and they won’t be able to feed as well in this darkness. Do we have a deal?”

I was desperate. The stink and the constant buzzing was making me delirious. I would have agreed to anything if it meant getting out this mess.

“If there is a faster way of getting this done, you have a deal! What do you want me to do?”, I spoke with a new eagerness.

The man, whom I had only glimpsed so far, stepped out from behind a massive bull. He was a man probably in his 3rd decade, young and lean. In the dim light of the cargohold, it was difficult to make out his features for he winked in and out between his charges. It must have been a trick of light for his skin was a dark shade of blue. I could see he was wearing common garments though, a white robe bound at knees and arms with a multicolored bandana tied around his head.

“Hello there, I am Hari.” And a very strong almost crushed my hand. I quickly let go, remembering the past encounter with Aajiv. What are they feeding the men here in Dwaraka, I thought. If anything, Jarasandha should have sought out Dwarakan chefs instead of holy butter if he wanted to conquer the island.

The man just as quickly disappeared behind another calf, tying them together with ropes so they followed the line of departing herds.

“I will untether the herds here while you see to it that there are no stragglers. Keep them moving and we should be done in no time.”

I simply nodded and did as asked. I had spent my fair share amount of time driving Meru’s cows back in Vanga. The experience came in handy here. Before long, the last of them were marching out and the air seemed fresher for it. Atleast it was more spacious now that the ship was emptied of its cargo. A few calves who were trying to keep up with their mother. Hari was not far behind.

“Ah, thank you, Ruksh. Now, I believe I owe you a way of cleaning out the dung before the shipmaster gets here. Let’s see, it should be here somewhere.”

He quickly began aligning the water barrels along one side of the hold. He leaned them along a wooden beam, later lashed with ropes. One of these he gave to me and the other was in his hand.

“Ok, Ruksh, are the barrels angled over there?...right, that should do it. Now, when I tell you, let go of the rope. If any barrel is still standing, tip it over quickly! The combined water flow should flood the hold and the dung will flow with it over into the chute below into the sea.”

It was crazy enough to work except for the barrels which would be empty of the much needed fresh water for next voyage. As much as I hated shoveling excrement, I did not want to fill water barrels later on.

Hari merrily waived off my concern, “Don’t worry, Ruksh. Just do as I tell you. i'll take care of the rest. You may not know it but I am an important man around here. Trust me.”

I found that hard to believe. Important men did not drive cows in bowels of ships while standing knee deep in manure. The man must have been someone trusted, though. After all, he was entrusted to single-handedly drive the cattle out of here into their caretakers’ arms.

He gave the signal and a small flood turned the wooden floor into a stinking swamp. Soon, the flow took the downhill path, dragging the last of the stink with it down into the sea.

“Well, that was not so bad. I hope the nymphs down there don’t mind the extra fertilizer. I’ll ask the crew to give a few extra offerings before casting off in the morning.” Then, he cheerfully slapped my shoulders, “I should be off too. My family gets antsy if I am out too late. But i'll give you some free advice whether you want it or not. All men can be redeemed and hope is never lost. I hope to run into you again soon.”

He shook my hand once again and I hoped that would be the last I would see of the crazy man.

I used the leftover water to wash myself before banging on the doors to alert the guards of the task’s completion. A window opened slightly and a deep voice told me to wait for the captain’s inspection.

I quickly checked the hold for any leftover messes. It was not spotless but if Kritaverma wanted it cleaner, he could hire someone who was not directly under threat of death.

In a short while, the door bolted open and the commander came in followed by two guards and another, who was probably the captain. They ignored me at first but seeing my work, the captain nodded his satisfaction.

“Well, at least we know you can clean up other’s mess. Let’s see if you can clean up your own. Did he give you any trouble?”, Kritaverma asked the guards while looking at me.

The lead guard with the deep voice stood to attention, “No, sir. But for a moment we thought he was going mad…probably the vapors getting to him. He kept talking to himself.”

I interjected, “No, my lord. I was talking with your man, Hari. He…showed me how to clean up the deck.” I refrained from mentioning I had any help but Kritaverma picked up on my hesitation.

“Who helped him? No one was to help the prisoner! Did I not make that clear before, sergeant?!”, Kritaverma questioned the guards.

The sergeant looked questioningly at me, "My Lord Kritaverma, we had sentries posted on all sides…there was no one down here but him.”

 


End file.
